We first noticed the little red haired girl at our daughter's championship basketball game in the local sports center. She sat in our stands and cheered loudly for our girls. We didn't know her.

At first I thought maybe she was with the opposing team. "BOX OUT!" she yelled appropriately, cheering happily when our girls got the ball. No question she was routing for us. "Do you have a sister or a cousin playing?" I asked. "No," she answered without explanation. Later she added, "My brother is playing away, and I decided to stay here." She sat right next to us, sidled up to my husband (who is by most accounts fairly intimidating). She could see right through him -- she was not remotely afraid. I thought at first she was hearing impaired, as her speech was slurred in a manner made familiar to me by my deaf friend, but after a while I realized she was mentally challenged in some other manner. She was simple minded, innocent -- and a great fan. She talked basketball with my husband and cheered loudly. We won, and I was convinced that her cheering certainly helped pump up our girls. She watched the entire game, utterly engaged the whole time, completely delighted when we won.

When the game was over, I felt terrible leaving her -- as if I were leaving a small child unattended. My husband reminded me that she arrived there without our help. She would be fine. I suppose she stayed to watch the next game. I don't remember.

Later we saw her more than once, riding on a Razor Scooter in the vacinity of the Sports Complex. We figured she probably lived nearby. We were happy to eventually see her at a High School basketball game. Her freshman brother was playing against my freshman son's team. She visited with us and cheered for her brother. "BOX OUT!" she'd yell predictably in the appropriate moment. Her team won that day, as always it seems. She was their angel in the outfield (or wherever a basketball player's angel might be...).

Occasionally she would come up in conversation, and we discovered that she attended every High School basketball game, every football game. She cheered on the teams and congratulated each player personally for a game well played. One of my prayer partners met her when she cheered for her son's little league baseball team. That girl managed to go to every game straight through the championship. She made noise makers in the team colors and handed them out to the parents. She had no relative on that team. Apparently, she travelled everywhere on that Razor Scooter -- but for the championship series, she accepted rides from team parents so she could make the away games. Amazing, we all knew of her, all attended games with her. She was like a red headed sports angel.

Last night I learned that she died quietly last week after sustaining head injuries in an accident she had with her Razor Scooter. Apparently, she slipped into a coma shortly after impact. She never regained consciousness. She wasn't hit by a car. She was happily riding her Razor (as usual). She didn't suffer, as far as anyone can tell. She hit her head and was gone. Like that. Her funeral was held this morning.

My son broke the news to me. All of his athlete friends are heartbroken. "I want my life to be like hers, " he told me. "Everyone will miss her -- she was a blessing to everyone. She never asked for anything back. Not even a ride." I am reminded of my post from a week ago -- "Pay Attention" I hear God remind me. Pay Attention.

My husband recalled his entire last conversation with her at our son's freshman game. "She was so happy to go to the prom. She was going to ride in a limo." I am amazed she was old enough to go to high school. She was completely guileless. I am jealous -- "How come you remember that?" I ask my husband. I want to remember more. I want to grab on to a piece of her and not let go. I don't remember the details of our last visit with her -- the game was over before I knew it and she was gone. I am sad that I didn't catch the details, didn't hear her happy story of herself. My husband took that tiny moment to cheer for her -- he took the time to listen. He paid attention.

As I tell the people I know of her passing, they share a story of her sitting on their sidelines at some point, cheering for their child. Not a single one knows her name. "What an incredible loss" is the communal concensus. What will we ever do without you, little red haired girl?

Yet without doubt, I can see her -- angels celebrating her arrival, cheering for her -- she is in the spotlight now. She is the sports star. And all of heaven has come to cheer her home. Well done, little one. Well done.



Update 1: Her name was Lauren Erica Herzog, and she was 18 years old. She left this world on October 4. She leaves behind her parents, her siblings, her grandparents, and an entire community of people who have been blessed by her at one time or another.

Update 2: On our way to school this morning (10/12) we passed the spot of her accident along our normal route, marked by a cross and 2 giant mylar balloons - Purple hearts.

"Blessed are the pure of heart, for they shall see God." Matt 5:8

++Thank You for sharing Lauren's pure heart with us. We are truly blessed to have known her.