GREAT MORNING, SO FAR

She is so darned good at her job. Kyra works at the Joie Cafe. She's the first smiling face you see when the doors open at 8:00 a.m.

Kyra unlocks the door and greets you as you shuffle over to your place in line. The pastries are hot at this hour. The coffee is fresh.

If you're new here, you notice that the girl behind the register has an oddly small body. Her two arms are like twigs. Her fingers are gnarled and permanently clenched. When you look at Kyra, there's something off-kilter about her body. It's as if the artist placed her narrow, child-like shoulders way higher than they ordinarily should be.

Because Kyra is not ordinary.

And that brings me back to the way this young woman performs her job. With warmth and kindness that takes its time, even though there's a long line of people behind you waiting to get caffeinated.

You snap out of your reverie because your steaming hot coffee (12 oz, soy milk, light sugar) has arrived, and the pistachio sticky bun has been plucked from the heat lamp, poised and waiting to be pulled apart with your very own soon-to-be sticky fingers.

When your plate is empty and there's no more coffee left, you wonder.

What is the physical condition called that causes the type of abnormality that your gracious hostess has? 

But then you snap out of it.

God's souls are housed in all sorts of bodies. Different sizes, different shapes, different colors. Some in easy-on-the-eyes orderliness, some out of order, like Kyra's.

So you gather up your empty plate and silverware. You take a last desperate drag from the coffee cup, hoping to get that last drop, and you're done here for today. 

"Bye, Kyra, have a blessed day!" you say as you leave the store.

She stops what she's doing and cheerfully replies with her, "You too!"

It's been a great morning so far. Thank God for the people in your life. Thank God for this new day.

Susan Diamond 
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