Little knocks come. A few seconds later they begin again. The sounds are door knob height from this small child who awaits my face to welcome her inside.
“Drawing?” she asks with that upturned face towards my smile.
“You want to draw?” I question. Her brows raise together, which is the silent answer of agreement.
I open the door for her, and she slips off her shoes at the entry. As usual, she quietly approaches my desk and withdraws the pencils and gray paper from their perch.
She motions for me to sit with her and watch her draw. When she is satisfied with her art and signs her name, she pushes it toward me to write down the names of her friends, her sister and brother, my name and Roland’s.
Her English is improving. Her writing is more legible. She smiles more and comes less often.
When she comes, however, she falls into my arms for the warm caress of a lola (grandmother), remains there long enough for me to pray over her and kiss her hair. Her face lifts and her lips press together to return a kiss. The few minutes are special for both of us. As she leaves, she turns to look back one more time and blow me a kiss. I return the gesture. I dare not close the door until she has disappeared around the corner to join her friends.
“When my father and my mother forsake me, Then the Lord will take care of me.” Psalm 27:10 (NKJV)