Making Special

She spilled beans and orange soda down the front of her white flower girl dress. I took her into the kitchen and rinsed her down the best I could and has someone help her change back into her clothes. In that moment, I remembered she’d never had something special like this before.

She was quiet and still like an ice princess. I’ve known her since before she could talk, peeking out from behind her mother while her sisters ran to hug me and join in the fun at the Living Stones program. Josefa, number 6 of 8 girls. “Why do you like her so much?” My friend asked, “Just wait until you meet her and you will know.” I responded, “Some of the kids just attach themselves to your soul in a way that surprises you both.”

She has changed. Last month, she contracted some kind of parasite from the water. They live at the bottom of the hill, next to the polluted lake where all the sewer run-off meets. She spends her days wearing torn panties and tearing down the road to go swimming at all hours, and then home again to the simple mud floor where the same water is used for drinking, cooking, and cleaning. 

Josefa had to spend two weeks in the hospital. Her mother, taking care of seven other girls. Her father working. A family friend stayed with her as she could, but she was alone. She wears her six years a little heavier now.

I giggled at her crush on Caid. All flower girls should blush at the groom. Her mom told me that she would stare at the picture of us for hours. She and her sisters came stomping down the hall while I was getting my hair done for the wedding. In the room, she glanced longingly at the makeup as we put on her dress, until we finally dolled her up as well.

It was a long wait. In Brazil, the bride is normally an hour late. Two hours late is not uncommon. But I am not a Brazilian bride—I was ready ten minutes before. The children from the busses kept peeking in the windows, wanting to get a glance at me. When I shooed them away, they pointed to Josefa and said “How come she gets to be in there?” Oh life is unfair.

Josefa was a champ. She waited with me for half an hour until all of my witnesses arrived (In Brazil, you have couples as “witnesses,” who sign the marriage covenant in the place of bridesmaids and groomsman). We practiced walking, Josefa holding my veil. As we lined up to the entrance, a gasp went up from my Living Stones kids, and the girls, who had their tiaras and has just put down the flower petals—came running to help me as well.

I almost lost my veil from all the tugging of little hands. So much was happening that I didn’t even care anymore—they could all carry it. The boys were all lined up along the aisle, and the sparklers started—and smoke and sparks and fire and children and there was Caid at the end. That moment was truly the most magical of my life—to date.

I didn’t see Josefa again until there was orange soda dribbling down her dress. And I gave her a big hug and am so glad she could be a part of my special day—no--she is part of what made my day special. To all my kids--I love you so much!