When the Hair Warned Us: A Story of Trust, Instinct, and... Lightning

 

There are moments in life when everything feels calm… until it isn’t. One second you’re enjoying the moment, and the next, the clouds shift—subtly at first—and something inside you says, pay attention. Something is going on and it's closer than it appears. 

That happened to me recently at a water park, of all places.

We were just getting out of the water, about to leave. The clouds in the distance had started to look ominous, but we are Louisiana girls, dark clouds aren't that big of a deal, especially this time of year. We weren’t in a rush. Until we saw a little flash in the distance. We knew it was time to start packing up. Still being leisurely—talking, drying off a little, checking out some of the new improvements to the park we headed to change.

As we were walking toward the changing area, my sister looked at my daughter and said, “Oh, look at her hair.” I turned, thinking it was just the wind.

But it wasn’t.

Her long, wet hair was standing straight up—just a few strands, but enough to stop me in my tracks. It wasn’t swaying; it was rising! Like something out of a movie. My sister looked at me and said, “Yours is doing it too.”

And just like that, we all knew. That storm was closer than it appeared. 

The time for strolling was over. We didn’t talk about it. We didn’t ask questions. We just moved.

We held hands. We avoided the tall metal poles nearby. We stepped around puddles. We walked quickly but calmly. We all knew exactly what to do without needing to say a word.

It wasn’t panic. It was instinct, trust, and connection.

After, I couldn't help but think of the parts we all played in this. Each noticing different things.  My sister noticed the hair. I  searched for a safe path. My daughter reaching for our hands. If something did happen not one of us would take the brunt, we would  share it. We were all in this together. Three women. Three senses. One shared sense. Protection. Love. Safety. These aren’t just reactions—they’re the result of years spent showing up for one another. Of knowing when to move and when to trust the people walking beside you.

That rising hair, we knew it was a powerful warning that a lightning strike is near. The electrical charge is in the air. Danger is closer than it appears. The moment before the storm touches down, it gives a quiet sign—if you’re willing to notice.

As we drove home we thought about how in many ways, life is like that. Sometimes, you don’t get a loud voice or a clear message. You just get a flash, a strand of hair rising, a gut feeling, a shift in the air.

And you have the choice: ignore it, or listen.

Isaiah 26:3 tells, "You will keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in you"

God gives us signs. Sometimes subtle, sometimes sudden. But He always prepares us—if we’re willing to trust, to look up, and to move when it’s time. He will keep us in perfect peace, even when the danger is closer than it appears. 

This story isn’t about the storm. It’s about us—three strong Southern women, three hearts tuned to each other, one shared instinct. 

Our hair gave us a warning, and we listened.

And I’m so, so grateful that we did.