When I was in sixth grade, my parents moved me from California to Colorado. For a brief time we rented a home in Denver, and I went to an elementary school where the students were predominately black. I was a little blonde haired, blue eyed girl from Cali. I am not prejudice, nor was I as a child, but I was shy, I didn't talk much. Unfortunately, my shyness was mistaken for snobbery. It was a very sad and scary time for me. Children can be so mean. I had tacks taped to my chair at school, gum squished down into the roots of my hair. Now, I like peanut butter, but peanut butter in my hair was kind of yucky. (My mama's technique for gum removal). I was pushed around and afraid to go into the bathrooms. And, I was told by the boys that I was ugly and had hair like a dog. I would also have terrible awful notes with scathing language telling me how awful I was shoved into my backpack when I wasn't looking. I had great anxiety about going to school. I would spend my mornings in tears and return home with such relief to be in the safety and sanctity of my home. It was where mom was...it was my sanctuary.
There were two rays of sunshine in my life back then, and their names were Muffin and Cinnamon, and no they were not food. They were the sweetest little sixth grade girls EVER. Their acceptance and love of me is what helped me to get through my time at that school. They were funny and just as unique as their names. We only lived in that rental for about 6 months, and then we moved on. But looking back, I know that Heavenly Father put them in my life to help me get through a tough time.
I don't know whatever happened to those sweet girls, but I have to admit that I love Muffin's and Cinnamon to this day, and I don't think that is a coincidence.