My Hannah is at the end of the hall getting a pedicure and manicure. It’s pampering – but it’s really practice for a gal learning in Mi Esperanza’s Beauty School. There’s a bilingual gal named Marcela, and they’re chatting as if they’ve known each other for years. Hannah’s smile is big, and I know she’s found her happy place.
In her rush, she’s left her backpack on the seat along with a half-crocheted baby hat – and some fudge round cookies.
I begin gathering her stuff to make room for others. I glance down in her backpack, and I have a moment…
This is the girl – the woman – she’s becoming.
A small, hot pink Bible (I look later – it’s bookmarked to Proverbs).
I Am Malala, a book she’s already read, so I wonder if she’s reading it again.
Magnetic, a book I purchased for her last weekend at She Speaks. She told me last night as she read – this book is so good.
A Mi Esperanza passport holder along with the boarding passes from yesterday’s flight to Honduras.
Knowing what’s in her heart isn’t difficult to discern. It’s what’s in her backpack.
God’s word; stories of social justice; an ethically-made passport cover created by women rising out of poverty in Honduras; a book about “becoming the girl God wants”; yarn and hooks to crochet hats for babies.
I look on as she makes a friend; I love watching as they share about their lives. She loves dancing as Hannah does. Two girls from two different worlds – literally and figuratively – who have found common ground…just being teen girls.
This reminds me we are so much more alike than we are different. I don’t know why I forget that. Why we forget that.
So this week I am praying and watching…and learning from my Hannah.
Lesson One: The language of love needs no translation. Listen to others’ hearts.