It's Wednesday. I'm wearing an orange (or "creamcicle"--if you want to get technical) youth shirt, jeans, sneakers and a Stetson zip-up hoodie as I head in with the principal to lunch duty. I get to monitor lines, see a sock-purse that a girl got from the Dollar Store, and sit with many of the youth I work with. It's already been a great morning.
As I'm standing with the principal, getting ready to wrap up lunch duty--over walks Cheyenne. She has short blonde hair, glasses, and a big puffy pink down jacket on. Her aide stands behind her, holding her backpack while Cheyenne talkes with the principal excitedly about being able to walk to class herself.
Cheyenne has a learning disability, and also has very little concept of appropriate personal space as she relentlessly hugs the principal and calls her "sweetie."
As I take all this in, I can't help but be won over by Cheyenne's charm. Though it is apparent that she is not "normal," it is truly apparent how much and how freely she loves those around her. It is apparent by her big, warm smile how happy she is just to enjoy small--yet large--victories of being able to walk to class herself. It is a good day--and then she spots me.
She quizically looks me over, and stands within an 1"1/2 of my face as she matter-of-factly inquires:
"Are you a middle schooler?"
I mean, after all. I'm in a youth shirt, jeans, and hoodie standing in the middle of a middle school. It's a fair question.
"No," I reply, "I graduated a long time ago."
"Oh," Cheyenne says. "Then, are you a woman?"
By this question, I can only assume she means "Are you an adult? A Grown-up?" Something along those lines, because I think that my gender is pretty obvious.
"Yes," I reply.
Cheyenne moves closer and continues to inquire. "Then, where do you work?"
Clearly, because I am a grown-up, I have a job. Of course.
"I work with a Church here on the island," I reply with a smile.
Cheyenne mulls this information over for only a second as she looks me dead in the eye and says:
"Then, do you see Jesus?"
For a moment the world stopped, and I couldn't help but fall in love with her simple question. All the verses of Christ being with little Children, insisting that the little children are allowed to come to Him, and that we are to have a child-like faith came rushing to my mind in that moment as I looked into her innocent eyes.
"Yes," I replied trying to hold tears of joy in so I didn't alarm her,"I see him all the time."
With that, satisfied, she turned to her aide and left. That was all she needed to know, and it was enough.
If I knew I wouldn't have confused her, I wish I had said:
"I'm looking at him right now."
