Every day after classes and chapel, I pick up Levi from school and head home with him for a little while before going back to pick up Gloria and our little neighbor buddy. The other day was just like any other day until Levi and I got to school to pick up the other kids. We were standing in the hall waiting when a little girl who looked to be about 7 years old approached us.
"Your little boy is missing some of his fingers, isn't he?" She asked me rather matter of factly.
Most little kids have "that" tone in their voice when they ask about or comment on Levi's fingers. She did not. She was pretty nonchalant about it. Regardless, I took a deep breath and prepared for the conversation. I have it well rehearsed these days and was ready.
"Yes. He is." I answered her.
"Me too!" was her cheerful reply, "See!"
This is where the screeching record sound played in my head. I looked over at her and she was happily displaying her right hand in all its 4.5 fingered glory. Sure enough. . . she was missing half of her index finger.
"Wow!" I said, genuinely surprised, "Were you born like that?"
"So was he!"
"Some kids used to run away from me in kindergarten and they said, 'EW! She has the finger touch!' but they got over it and so did I and it's all good now. Now I love school and all my friends."
This is the point where I had to start actively holding back the tears.
"Thank you so much for sharing that with us!" I told her.
"I'm in that room," she pointed out the classroom number, "if you ever need anything. You can just come find me."
"Wow. Thanks!" I said.
I showed her which room is Levi's and asked her what her name is. I made sure to thank her profusely for talking to us and fully plan on writing the principal an email about what a sweet, composed, wonderful little girl she is. I have to say that I feel so much better about this school journey knowing that God dropped a kid like her in that school and showed her my son. I wonder if she's betrothed yet and if she's into younger guys.