The sunlight was speckled that morning, with ribbons of gold streaming through the branches shielding the workshop. Wind rustled the branches overhead, whispering of her approach. He smiled.
A pale-ocean blue lump rested on the worktable, soft and pliable as He worked it with His hands. The grass beneath His feet was softer than air, singing as her footsteps neared. He turned to greet her with a smile. “Morning, daughter.”
“Daddy!” Her arms went up at once as she flung her arms around His waist. After a moment, she turned curiously to the worktable. “Is it mine?”
She circled the table, squinting at the lump from every possible angle. “What is it?”
He chuckled. “Patience. You will see.”
“I like blue.” She rested her arms on the side, tilting her head sideways to examine the lump. “What’s it mean?”
“A lot of things…” He worked for a moment, shaping the lump into a vase. “Relaxation, for one.”
“Like when you made the ocean?”
“Something like that.” He skillfully stroked the shape and the sun touched it, drying the moisture.
“Sometimes it carries sorrow.”
He paused. “Yes…like tears.”
“But I don’t cry anymore.”
“Not here…not now.” A great sadness seemed to shift over Him.
“It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?”
Then smashed the vase.
She crawled under the table and sat near His feet, tracing His toes. He bent to see under the table and smiled at her sitting in the grass beneath it. “I love you.”
“Love you too.”
Nina felt the headache the moment she walked through the doors. Her world crumbled in a matter of minutes at the pink envelope thrust in her face. “Sorry darlin’!” Brianna cooed. “You’re not allowed up here anymore, you can pick up your stuff at security downstairs.”
Nina forced the polite smile to the front. The same one used daily to survive every meaningless day doing what she loved at company she hated. “Thanks.” She lied.
Brianna’s smirk wavered, but remained as Nina backtracked to the elevator.
The ride downstairs was enough time to muse over everything. Now there was nothing left in the city for her. No job, no boyfriend…no church, even.
The powder blue business suit seemed to stiffen as she straightened the collar, shifting her weight back and forth on matching stilettos. Elevator doors chimed open as she exited to the lobby.
She was stuck on the last presentation for Jerome Industries. It would’ve been a killer presentation-enough to knock out their rival, Elisha Incorporated. A company she wouldn’t have minded working for. She’d been assigned the Jerome file, and had put the last of herself into it. Her job well done was rewarded with a nightmare.
The fake smile resurfaced as she signed for the cardboard box holding the trinkets accumulated for the past five years. There was only emptiness to show for all the talent she’d bled. Her heart was shattered, each shard being ground into dust. Exiting the building, Nina took a taxi home.
Moping at her roommate’s apartment was the least appealing option, so Nina swallowed her common sense and followed the nagging urge within, beginning to pack furiously. There was very little she’d accumulated, naturally, and the tears came swiftly.
Nina attacked every inch of her life, scrutinizing it in painful, excruciating detail, alternating between praying and ranting. Her roommate returned, cheerfully seeing her and the packing boxes out to the curb.
A quick stop at the packing store sent her boxes homeward; she’d be fine without them. And standing in line at the airport terminal, Nina waited while her ticket was processed. There numbness was horrifying, as she boarded the flight.
Her mind tried to piece together the day’s events, a process interrupted by the weary business man taking the seat to her left. He offered a polite smile, stowing his bag under the seat in front of him and then rifling through a thick folder of paper.
Nina couldn’t help staring at the colorful diagrams spilling out from inside. “Nice font.”
His head snapped up at once and he gave a curt nod.
“Used to be my favorite.” Nina blushed. “Sorry. I work at-used to work at-Donovon and Design, that was my favorite font.”
He looked her over, carefully. “You quit?”
“Fired.” Nina offered her hand. “Nina Reeves.”
“Elisha McMann. You are an answer to prayer!”
But we have this treasure in earthen vessels… (2 Cor. 4:7)
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