Each week, I tell stories to my granddaughter’s transitional kindergarten class. What do they see when they look at me? Do they already have a hard and fast idea of what is beautiful, desirable and worth their attention?
What I have found — with them and the hundreds of other children I have known — is that there is no preconceived superficial scale that measures beauty, worth and value. Children see something far more interesting and precious. They see who I am deep at the center of my being. They love what can be seen only with the heart.
When I was a child, my Aunt Dolores was the object of my small, frightened heart, longing for tenderness and unconditional warmth. My mother was rigid, strict, harsh, and punishing. Her sister, Dolores, was none of those things. If one were looking for surface attractiveness, one would not find it in Aunt Dolores. And yet, transcendent beauty shone from within a heart so accepting that there was room for us all. I was safe there, in a heart that was open, forgiving, tender, and overflowing with sweet abundance…