It’s like reading a page out of my diary. You know, if I were this funny. Every time a short person tells me how lucky I am to be tall, I’ll just keep this in the back of my mind. And smirk down at them.
As a taller-than-average woman who has studied – and envied – the privileges enjoyed by those who are limited in physical stature, it has become overwhelmingly clear to me that God loves short people best. I’m not saying He hates tall people, but we’re definitely God’s middle child.
His eldest are average-sized people and they’re beloved because they’re just so normal. It’s as if God sighed in relief when he discovered that His first kid turned out just right – not too short, not too tall. No one was ever gonna call this kid beanpole. He’d never be stuck in the back row of the class photo. “How’s the weather up there?” would never be the first question asked of God’s eldest by absolutely everyone he meets for the rest of his life.
God’s youngest, though short, immediately climbed the ranks of popularity because she was the baby of…
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