The Shape of Love

It had been about a week since her last bath. Her hair was windblown — in reality, shaggy, scraggly, and dirty is a more accurate description. But she did her best to fix it.

A lady knocked on her front door yesterday and invited her to church. Her mom said it was okay with her. They picked her up that morning, and the knocking woke her up. She peeked out the window and saw the lady dressed up. She grabbed one of her older sister’s dresses. It was about three inches too long.

She put her Nikes on, paused in front of the mirror, and rushed out the door.

“Hey, honey, I’m glad you’re coming with us today! I think you’ll enjoy it.”

The little girl just nodded.

That morning her mom was strung out and would not remember where she was if she woke up. Her dad knew where she was and was glad that she was gone. He wanted to spend the day with his other girlfriend.

She didn’t know what to expect. She hadn’t ever been to church before.

It was Grace’s first time helping with the children’s church. She saw the little girl enter and look around the room. She went to greet her and offered to escort her to the front row. The girl didn’t look at Grace; she just nodded.

Grace was aware of the pungent odor emanating from the unhygienic little girl. Her shoulders drooped, and her head hung low. She knew. She was disgusted with herself. But she couldn’t help that her parents wouldn’t pay the bills. School had been a nightmare. There was no life in her downcast eyes.

Love and its common expressions were not a frequent experience for the little girl. Yet when the youth pastor’s wife came in, she went straight to the little girl and hugged her, expressed how happy she was to see her, and thanked her for visiting them that day. The youth pastor came over, smiled, and shook her hand.

She wasn’t in the habit of shaking people’s hands or hugging, for that matter. Simple expressions of love didn’t exist in her home.
Last night’s living room riot was evidence of that.

Her parents had ensured the night was not a peaceful one. It finally settled down once the drugs took effect. She had been cowering in her bed for a couple of hours, listening to the din of what seemed like hell. She didn’t want to get struck last night. She had to make it to church today.

The children’s church workers put their heart and soul into the puppetry and music selection. They ran back and forth behind the scenes, ensuring everything was just perfect.

Grace was helping with crowd control. She noticed how still the little girl sat. All the other kids were moving, talking, and not paying much attention.

The little girl sat perfectly still. Grace was at the back of the room but meandered toward the front to see if she had fallen asleep.

She hadn’t. Her eyes were wide and transfixed on the stage. Her mouth was hanging open. She couldn’t believe she had missed this for who knew how long.

The music cue for the end of the service started playing. All the kids jumped to their feet. She stood up slowly. Grace was standing over to the side.

The song was “I Cast All My Cares Upon You.” Then they started playing “Jesus Loves Me.”

The boy behind her was making faces at his shadow, three rows behind her a girl was playing a game on her phone, and the boy standing beside her was yawning.

Grace looked over and saw something that brought her to tears. The little girl had formed the shape of a heart with her hands and was holding it up to her heart. Her eyes were closed, and her head bowed.

She felt something she hadn’t before and didn’t know what else to do. That day, she had heard that Jesus loved her. She had felt the warm hug of someone who truly cared about her.
All she knew to do was show the only expression of love she had seen. It spoke louder than all the words in the world.
And it was perfect.

to anyone needing a reason to carry on,
– Caleb