I don’t remember her name but I’ll never forget her face.
Framed by amber ringlets, that little face was marked with great anguish. Her small chin trembled. Her eyes were wet with tears. Crouched low against a large tumbling mat in the gymnasium, she cast furtive glances at the throng of children gathered for a birthday party.
A mother of four, I recognized what was wrong: the child felt overwhelmed and out of place. Before I could cross the room to help, I watched, spellbound, as a rosy cheeked, blonde eight-year-old made her way to the mat and bent over the crying girl. I could see a brief exchange of words and smiles. Immediately, the countenance of the curly-headed child changed. She straightened and rose to her feet. Radiant joy broke through the shadows of her tears. Her face glowed as she went to join the others in play.
Amazing how easy it is for one heart to touch another.