She and her mom drive through the food distribution where I volunteer a couple of times a month. We kinda hit it off.

When we met, it was a late summer day and school had just started for the year. She was sitting in the back seat of their very used car, holding some construction paper when I placed a box of dried goods next to her.

“What’s going on sweet girl?”

Her blue eyes lit up, and she held her pre-K art work out for me to inspect. Of course I did, noting its obvious artistic genius.

She was big for her age. A little tall, and maybe two times too heavy. Her hair was short, thick, and curly. It appeared to have been styled on the back porch. Her too tight clothes, likely from a clothing closet.

Her eyes, a beautiful blue. Made even more beautiful by the light in them as she proudly showed me her work from “big girl school.”

Like I said, we kinda connected. She’d look for me when they came through and giggle when I’d exclaim, “We got apples!”

Pretty quickly in our relationship, she’d want to hug my neck when I’d put the box in. Her mom didn’t mind, so I’d lean in, get my hug, and ask how school was going.

In case you’re wondering it’s hard to say, “How’s sweet girl today?” while being choked.

Man, she made my heart smile.

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Some of my friends believe we’re going to be movie star pretty when we get to heaven. That’d be nice. Of course, I would remind folks that believe such that Danny Devito is a movie star.

For all I know, we may all be a few sizes too big, have bad hair cuts, and be completely beautiful because our hearts pure. Like my young friend’s was five or six years ago.

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Now days she’s in elementary school. I don’t know how she’s doing because we don’t talk anymore. When she and her mom come through the line, she looks down and won’t make eye contact. Her hair and her clothes look like she’s quit trying.

I’m not sure what’s going on. Her mom is still pleasant, but my young friend is spiritless.

I’m afraid something demonic told her that you’re less than if your mom has to go to food distributions. Or maybe it told her that heavy people can’t be beautiful.

I pray that one day she discovers that is horse shit.

I suppose at this point in this musing I should say something about all of us being sacred and beautiful. Maybe reaffirm that we are all loved extravagantly. Maybe encourage all of us to recommit to connecting with folks who don’t feel loved, and trying to find ways to reflect their beloved selves back to them. I could even throw something in about stamping out bullying.

But, when I think about a young girl going from spilling joy on an old guy volunteering at a food distribution to appearing to be ashamed to be alive, I just want to cuss.

With shocking vulgarity. From the heart.