Tattoos are great
It’s our first day at a new school. I don’t necessarily know how or why but somehow I always get chosen by some spicy little girl. She picks me out and it’s the best feeling. She sees something.
This spicy little girl is named Fong. We had a good day. She asked me questions. At one point we ran off and played soccer together. My heart was fully satisfied.
I love this. I love that my job is loving people and playing with children. My career is making sure people feel important.
Later that afternoon she was writing- doing her school work when she started spelling out the word I have engraved on my arm. “DAUGHTER” I tell her. As she points to the cross below it, I say “Jesus. Through Jesus I am a daughter.” She continues doing her work. Moments later she flips to the front inside cover of her book. She grabs my arm, picks up her pencil and draws the cross on that inside cover.
I don’t know what she knows or what she doesn’t. I don’t know if she’s ever heard the name of Jesus but I do know that she saw this symbol and knew in her soul it was special. You see, she could have doodled it on the page she was writing on. But she didn’t. You can’t convince me that she didn’t feel something about His cross. That she didn’t somehow sense that it was significant enough to be housed on the inside cover of her book and not any ole random page. The cross from my experiences so far seems to be a curious thing. It seems to speak for itself. It seems to lure people in- supernaturally. I don’t have an ending for this story. Who knows what will come of that penciled cross in the book of a fourth grader. But the cross speaks. It whispers love to strangers. It’s all inclusive and inviting. There’s something in our nature that draws us close to it…
