Hair has always been a thing for me.  I admit it.  I’m pretty sure I haven’t missed more than 3 days in the last 25 years of doing “something” with my hair.  Actually, one of those three days happened two weeks ago when I had a hair crisis.  We had gone on an over night trip and forgot to pack my gel.  Lara is still laughing at me.

I remember when I first realized that combing my hair actually mattered.  And it mattered so much that I carried a comb around with me all the time.  It started with the free black comb the photographer gave me on picture day at school.  Actually, I thought it was more fun to snap my friends and classmates in the fanny than to actually use it on my hair.  And then came junior high.  The comb took on an entirely new meaning for me.  You know the kind, the one with the long handle that stuck out of your back pocket.  I actually had a few different combs in different colors.  All for the “cool” factor.  I wouldn’t be caught dead without my comb.  And then I was introduced to this thing called men’s hairspray.  The pump variety.  I can still smell it.  It curiously complimented my Brut and English Leather cologne.  I needed it to keep my perm in place as I tried to be cool like Kirk Cameron.  The girls thought he was cute and I wanted them to think I was cute.  I wasn’t.  I looked like Richard Simmons and I still haven’t lived it down yet.

Fast forward 20 years.  I met this dude named Scott Spivey last January.  He was cool.  He had cool hair, played a cool guitar, loves God and had a quirky sense of humor.  He can even hit a nice Sammy Hagar note minus the leg kick.  I thought he would make the perfect Worship Leader at ACC.  And he did.  He’s great and I can’t thank him enough for the outstanding job he did in assembling & leading a first-class team of musicians, vocalists, sound and stage crew for our night of celebration at ACC last Saturday.  I didn’t see a comb in his back pocket however….

I probably would have snapped him.