My girlfriend said these words to me. She was describing her new hairdo. She was told it was modern and stylish. To me, it looked like a boot camp buzz cut when compared to her previously long hair. Pixie? No, Satan's minion! She really was trying to like it. Her hairstylist talked (pressured?) her into it. BUT…she was a teenager in the 1960's. Long hair was IT! She confessed that she was unhappy with it. I engaged in what I later would understand as "pastoral care."
What's your "pixie?" That is, what (when?) have you been talked into that you knew was a bad idea? I must admit that I have done it often. I don't want the pressure of others. I want to please some whom I love or respect. I have not made up my mind but am evidently moving too slow for others. I was blinded by the glitter of the instant recognition my choice would gain. I remember a set of hopelessly expensive pots and pans I purchased before Christine and I even had a single piece of anything. I wanted to seem thoughtful and refined to the salesman. I was a dufus. Pixie, smixie.
Today, vow to your Father in Heaven, "No Pixies!" Play to an audience of one – Jesus. Let him in on every move, every decision. If you move without him (and you will,) ask him to redeem your Pixie moments. Let him know that you cannot resist Pixies and need him to stand in the gap for you. He was bothered by Pixies at