“I’m the barber of Seville”…. Nineteen Thirties Little Rascal’s Alfalfa serenaded, squeaked and dreamed of being an opera star. Nineteen Sixties folk singers Peter, Paul and Mary asked, “Where have all the flowers gone?” My question today is, “Where have all the barbers gone?” If you are a city dweller, you may find my question irrelevant. If you live in a rural community, you may have noticed that barbers are a vanishing breed.
My husband Norm’s regular barber died not long ago; since then he has been searching for a replacement in the vicinity. It has been enlightening. Apparently, young men are not pursuing a career in the art of cutting hair. Women have stepped in to fill the gap, earning an honest wage cutting both women’s and men’s hair. Hats off to these stylists; it is not easy to be on your feet all day. Yet, I believe men miss the days of meeting men friends at the downtown barbershop.
I will not miss my opportunity to share the comforting news that God knows our preoccupation with hair or the lack of it. “Yes, God even knows how many hairs you have on your head (Luke 12:7a ERV).” Believing that to be true, I think he knows how many inches a barber trims off the top, back and sideburns. I hear a heckler in the room. “So what?” they say. I find it amazing that the creator is privy to even the least significant details. That signifies he is sovereign.