But it didn't phase Frank; he kept reaching with his tiny front legs and swishing with his huge back legs until he made it to the banks of the pond with every hair on his head perfectly dry. That's why he worked so hard to keep his head above water...his hair. Most frogs don't have any hair. As a matter of fact, NO FROGS HAVE HAIR!! Except Frank.
Frank's a little different. He's an individual. He does his own thing. He's like a fish out of water. (Oops, sorry about that.)
Well, it happened like this. There was a little girl fishing from the banks of the pond one day. She came often; usually with her Daddy. The little girl was very pretty. She always wore blue jeans, white sneakers, a pink t-shirt, and a yellow baseball cap. And Kermit the Frog sunglasses. I really think that's why Frank liked to swim close to the bank and watch her. She must have been about 7 years old and she sure loved fishing with her Daddy.
Then it happened. Summer was almost over and Frank had learned from earlier summers that the kids quit coming to the pond and start going to school. Polly the perch had told him that; but what did she know about school?
So Frank knew he had to make it to shore that day because it might be the last day the little girl came fishing. There he was acting like he was soaking up the warm sunshine while sitting on that rock. But really he was watching her.
Then it happened. Her fishing pole was almost bent double. Her Daddy was excited and trying to help her. As he reached for the fishing pole his arm bumped her yellow baseball cap and knocked it off her head onto the grass. Frank had never seen her without her yellow baseball cap. Now it was on the ground and she was struggling to land the biggest fish she had ever hooked.
But Frank lost track of the fishing when he saw her hair. It had been tucked under her cap all summer long but now it was flopping around on top of her head while the fish was pulling at her pole.
Hair. Nobody in the pond had hair. At first it looked strange but Frank began to think it was beautiful. Especially this little girl's hair. It was long and curly and brown. And it looked like a lot of fun. You know, having that stuff balanced on your head and hanging down on your shoulders and in your eyes and over your ears. Frank wanted some of his own.
There aren't any places at the pond to get hair. Frank spent the next two weeks looking for hair in the pond. There was no hair.
Frank knew he had to be creative so he hopped down the path that led away from the pond. He didn't know what was down the path but he knew there was no hair in the pond. Maybe there would be hair at the other end of the path.
Frank was disappointed to see there was no hair at the end of the path. Instead, there was only something called a barber shop. Discouraged, Frank wanted to go back to the pond. But he told himself that if he came this far he could go a little farther and check out this new place.
As he hopped into the barber shop, Frank saw the little girl with the long, curly, brown hair. He mustered all his courage and made his way toward her. When he got to the barber chair where she was sitting he hopped up to the footrest, then to the seat, next the arm, and finally the headrest. He whispered in her ear, "I'm just a bald frog but I would love to have hair like yours. Can you help me?"
She jumped to her feet and acted like she had seen a ghost. Really she had only HEARD a FROG. Frank didn't understand her reaction so he said, "Excuse me, girl. I'm Frank. Just a frog. No hair. See? Your hair is so pretty. Can you help me get hair like yours?"
She ran away.
Frank figured it was time to take matters into his own hands (if he had hands). He jumped from the chair into a pile of hair clippings he spotted just under the counter in the barber shop. Just next to the hair was a blob of mud that must have been tracked in by someone wearing muddy boots. Frank grabbed the mud and stuck it on his bald head. (I bet that looked funny.) Then he placed a few pieces of the hair in the mud. That's one creative frog! He made himself a wig.
As he hopped back to the pond, very proud of his hair, the other residents of the pond stared. First, in shock; then in amazement; then because they couldn't stop staring...and laughing.
That bald frog has worn that wig every minute since. I'm not sure how it stays on; wet mud on a slick frog head??
But I do know that the wig had 17 sprigs of hair in it. I know because I counted them.
Just like God has counted the hairs on your head. He cares that much about you.
(Originally posted June 16, 2005)
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