The Label doesn't fit

March 18, 2007

Joel Akin

 When I was born the doctor poked me in the head. It left me bald in a small portion the size of a dime. And perhaps that is the way life is. We find ourselves born without hair. And that hair is the one place in all the world where people just don't pay attention. That is unless they stand behind and above you. And then you wonder why people say "Did you know you have no hair back there and you laugh with them and they go their way having revealed to you a new thing.

 Life is filled with people with tiny bald patches at the back of their head. All of us know from birth that the doctor poked us. And all of us know there isn't much we can do about it. And all of us know that if it were time to be born again we'd say to the doctor "Please, don't forget to poke me right there." And that way we might have just a little hole in our head to help keep us humble.

 And that is the way life keeps us. Humble. We don't need to worry about it because life keeps us there. We don't think how strange it is that I was born large and maybe extra large. And no one asks what happened to that baby's hair. And no one thinks that I was born with hair already. Some children just are predisposed to baldness. Lets be honest. How many times do you see a bald baby? Most babies are bald, true, but they too have a handicap from birth called waiting for hair to grow. And growing hair on a head isn't like growing hair on a calf or an ankle. Its just not something easily done. We can pray all we want and that ankle bone just won't garner much applause at the bald babies convention. For babies are not much more then joy on wheels. And that's because even at baby conventions people pull out wheels to wheel the baby around. And if baby wheels could speak what would they say?

 Being poked in the head is like being poked in the bum or in the arm with a needle. And that needle is sharp. Being sharp is an odd term. In layman's terms it means to be on guard, to stay peeled, to be on edge. And most of us have tried to remain on guard ever since. In fact when you think about it we can say that being sharp and on guard is pretty much what everyone wants for us. God wants us to be on guard, people want us to stay sharp, and people want us to stay happy.

 Happiness is a lot like that lost hair. It fell to the ground and was kicked into the corner. And when people find it they get grossed out and say "What is that." They sweep it into the pan and dust it into the bin and cast it off with the rest of today's garbage. And that baby poked in the head didn't complain much. We'll he did come out crying about it but baby's complain lots these days about their need for attention. We are all like little babies and the fact that we lost a little hair and the fact we got poked really doesn't mean much except maybe to those who stand above and behind. And then we get a revelation and that revelation is "Did you know you have a bald patch back here?" And we say "Your kidding?" And we smile and laugh and go our way and think "Well, someday I'll have to see it for myself." After all if I really did get poked by the doctor I can't prove it. True, when I touch it I feel a little bald patch but I haven't done comparisons. And comparing a bald patch isn't on my list of things to do. Maybe someday I will. Maybe someday I'll feel inspired and say "Can I see the back of your head? And, would you like to see mine?" And then people who notice such things would ask the doctor to poke around my head to find out if I really do need help with my hair.

 That is the way life is. I can explain things but how far do you go before people wonder if maybe you've lost it? How far do you go in the wheel of time before one of the spokes comes loose and has to be fixed? So it is with the poke. It was a poke. I have my moms word on it. She's told me more then once that I owe that unseen bald patch to the doctors poke. I don't think of him with anger because he is the doctor who helped deliver me. And being delivered by him is like being given the breath of life. And unlike some I didn't wait. I popped out quickly because there was this doctor who poked me.

 I know that was the real answer. Its just that I came out in pain and I still have that pain in the same place. And sometimes I cry and sometimes I weep. But I'm just a baby. So don't worry when I cry. As we wise ones know a baby cries all the time. Why soon, very soon he'll stop crying. And maybe that bald patch will still be there or maybe it won't. But he'll just cry a little. And his weeping will just endure a little. And the poking will just go on a little more. And he will just cry one more time. Just one more time and the crying will end. Just one more time. One more time. Just once more and the crying will stop.