My glory is slowly vanishing!
First a fist full, then a brush full,
a sink full, a whole bag full!
Appalled, I look in the mirror.
My hair, my glory, given me as a
covering is getting unhinged
and with horror I watch it let go.
A hairless creature stares back
at me, eyes brimming with tears.
Surely that is not I!
The tears spill--we cry--
Finally, gingerly, I reach out
and embrace what now is me.

Jesus said that every hair of my head
is numbered and that not one
shall perish without His knowing.
I ponder these words and hear Him say,
Draw close my child;
let my love be your covering.
Feel my hands
upon your hairless head
and hear my tender words
of compasssion and comfort.
Rest, relax, I will cover you
during this time of trial and tears
And when your beautiful hair
has all grown back, there will be
glory of a different dimension
because you have walked with Me.

(from: The Valley of Cancer)