It was 12 am in the morning, and she sat still,staring into space, trying hard not to appear emotional. Her face was wet with tears, which she constantly cleaned, her eyes red. In her mind was just one question: who had she offended that was making life almost miserable for her? After almost three months of being “strong”, dealing with the negatives and keeping in the tears, she felt like she was at her breaking point. She was losing faith.
Earlier that day…..
Service was quite wonderful though Hilda kept occasionally checking her phone for the call to come check an apartment. Having moved into another city was quite another experience altogether for her; finding a place was almost like pouring water into a volcano and finances were getting redder than freshly harvested tomatoes.
Well, until the job came her way.
The work of a cashier was mostly mental. The physical part though was quite important since lifting huge watermelons or rolling them across the check-out counter required “skeletal-muscle” strength, not “brain-tissue” strength. But here came the real problem: deficits. That one time you don’t count the money well and it falls short of what you ought to collect, something you only discover when the supermarket had closed. It happened to her three times.
The third time was the last straw. And it was today.
She was not supposed to work on Sunday but the Friday before, she could not gather enough coins to get transport fare, so she had agreed to “rework” the shift on Sunday
Walking to the subway station that Sunday night, Hilda tried being calm; no tears or soliloquies. But inside her was so much pain that soon she could not keep it in. The tears began to pour and she let them fall freely.
It was less painful when deficits came up and you had the money to fill in. It was more painful when you were still even gathering rent money and you were struggling to hold yourself in place, your tuition was hanging, rehearsals were raging, you put in more than you got and just when you thought you had your cards together to handle everything, something just came up and destroyed every shard of composure in you, leaving you a mess of emotions, tears and negative memories.
That was Hilda’s state. It felt like she had done something for which the forces of life were punishing her without mercy, or maybe she prayed to God the wrong way hence her condition was just there. Hilda loved the LORD so much with her heart and believed that He was just in all His ways. But the present turn of things threatened the firmness of that knowing in her heart.
“LORD please help” she whispered, half-crying. “I don’t want to be an ingrate. I know You have a plan for me, and I trust You even though I don’t know the plan, but it’s getting harder by the minute. I’m trying to make a honest living with the job You sent my way. I don’t do shady stuff; I don’t put Your name to shame. This is getting harder, please intervene”
As she lay down to sleep, unsure of what to expect the next day, somewhere in the deepest recesses of her soul a song came to life. But she did not hear it. She was already asleep.
“YOU ARE THE SOURCE OF MY STRENGTH………YOU ARE THE STRENGTH OF MY LIFE………..AND I LIFT MY HANDS IN TOTAL PRAISE……..TO YOU”
Needless to say, the call for the apartment never came.