I get compliments on my beard every day. No joke.
It’s a strange thing, this growing hair on my face. I really don’t have to do much. In fact, it’s actually a testimony to my tenacious laziness. It just grows. I don’t take any active measures. I trim now and then. I don’t like to feel hair in my lip, so I cut that back. I take a bit off from the jowls so it doesn’t go out all square and poofy. But other then that – it just grows.
Beards are funny because they’re entirely natural, but apparently very comment-worthy. Complete strangers will tell me they like it. A few weeks ago a man gave me a “Nice beard” as he walked by me in the movie theater lobby. Waitresses often tell me. Just now one said, “I really like your beard,” after I paid the tab. She added, “I’ve been meaning to tell you since you walked in.” Wow.
On the flip side, other people will tell me they don’t like it. They’ll tell me a beard story or about how beards are gross and never should be ever grown. It’s like I’m a walking Facebook comment box.
I certainly don’t mind. I like attention. I think it’s funny and amusing. This is the longest I’ve grown it, which has been from October to March. It’s easy. I just have to – not shave.
I wish that I would get this many comments about my kindness. Or my friendliness. Or my thoughtfulness. I wish I would hear people talk this much about my character or heart for people, or how I pitch in to help others when they’re in need. I wish I would hear this much about how much I love my kids and my wife, my church and my friends. People do say some of that sometimes.
Instead I get beard comments, and I have beard righteousness, and that doesn’t feel like it gets me very much at all in the end. I’ll take it. As I read somewhere, “Preach the gospel at all times. When necessary, use beards.” All good things must come to an end eventually.