Maggie sat on the cold, concrete steps of the community center, her battered sneakers tapping an anxious beat. She thought she was over it—the gnawing jealousy that tightened around her chest every time she saw Jordan's name headline another art gallery opening, another award, another smiling photo splashed across social media.
They had once dreamed together, Jordan and Maggie, sitting cross-legged on dusty floors, sketching grand visions of the future. Only Jordan’s future seemed to be unfolding exactly right, while Maggie’s life felt like the same stagnant Saturday afternoon, repeated over and over.
A tear surprised her, slipping down her cheek uninvited. She wiped it away roughly and looked up just as soft yellow light spilled from the community center’s tiny lobby. Miss Eliza stood there, the old woman bundled in a knitted shawl, beckoning with a tender smile.
“Come inside, honey,” Miss Eliza said. “You’re just in time.”
Maggie shook her head silently, but Miss Eliza didn't budge. Something deep inside Maggie—the part still tender with longing—urged her to move. She rose, her legs stiff from sitting in anger and self-pity, and shuffled into the warmth.
Inside, the low murmur of voices filled the room. A handful of neighbors painted signs for the upcoming school fundraiser. The colors were messy, the letters wobbly, but there was laughter—good-natured, light. She almost turned to leave.
“Maggie,” Miss Eliza said, placing a hand on her arm, “I could use your help.”
Without meaning to, Maggie found herself holding a paintbrush, sitting between Mr. Cook, the gruff postman, and little Natalie, who pushed a glitter pot toward her with a giggle.
Hours melted away in color and conversation. For the first time in weeks, Maggie didn’t feel like she was struggling to keep up with a world that raced ahead without her.
Later, Miss Eliza handed her a cup of hot chocolate, the marshmallows melting into tiny white clouds on top.
“You've got a light in you, Maggie,” Miss Eliza said.
Maggie barked out a short laugh. “Not much of one these days.”
“Oh, child.” Miss Eliza’s eyes crinkled with kindness. “Jealousy’ll blind you to your own blessings quicker than just about anything. Don’t measure your life against someone else’s. God’s got a unique calling for you.” She tapped Maggie’s heart with a gentle finger. “It's still in there.”
The words found some cracked-open place in her heart she hadn’t realized was longing to be filled. Tears pricked her eyes again, but they were different tears this time—softer, freer.
“Do you think God really... sees me?” Maggie asked, fingers tightening around the warm mug.
“I know He does,” Miss Eliza said simply. “You’re never overlooked by the One who made you.”
As Maggie walked home under a sky pricked with stars, her steps were lighter. She looked up, lingering on the quiet shimmer of the heavens. Maybe Jordan’s path wasn’t meant to be hers. Maybe there was beauty yet to uncover along her own, exactly in the time and place God had for her.
At her front porch, she paused. A small white envelope sat tucked under her mail. Inside was a short note:
“We’re opening spots for art instructors next month. We’d love to have you on the team. Your heart for the community is just what we’re looking for.”
Signed: Director, Community Center.
Maggie hugged the letter to her chest, laughter bubbling from her like water from a fresh spring. Maybe the Lord hadn’t been silent after all. Maybe He’d simply been asking her to trust that her season of blooming was coming—in His perfect time.
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Bible Verses:
Maggie sat on the cold, concrete steps of the community center, her battered sneakers tapping an anxious beat. She thought she was over it—the gnawing jealousy that tightened around her chest every time she saw Jordan's name headline another art gallery opening, another award, another smiling photo splashed across social media.
They had once dreamed together, Jordan and Maggie, sitting cross-legged on dusty floors, sketching grand visions of the future. Only Jordan’s future seemed to be unfolding exactly right, while Maggie’s life felt like the same stagnant Saturday afternoon, repeated over and over.
A tear surprised her, slipping down her cheek uninvited. She wiped it away roughly and looked up just as soft yellow light spilled from the community center’s tiny lobby. Miss Eliza stood there, the old woman bundled in a knitted shawl, beckoning with a tender smile.
“Come inside, honey,” Miss Eliza said. “You’re just in time.”
Maggie shook her head silently, but Miss Eliza didn't budge. Something deep inside Maggie—the part still tender with longing—urged her to move. She rose, her legs stiff from sitting in anger and self-pity, and shuffled into the warmth.
Inside, the low murmur of voices filled the room. A handful of neighbors painted signs for the upcoming school fundraiser. The colors were messy, the letters wobbly, but there was laughter—good-natured, light. She almost turned to leave.
“Maggie,” Miss Eliza said, placing a hand on her arm, “I could use your help.”
Without meaning to, Maggie found herself holding a paintbrush, sitting between Mr. Cook, the gruff postman, and little Natalie, who pushed a glitter pot toward her with a giggle.
Hours melted away in color and conversation. For the first time in weeks, Maggie didn’t feel like she was struggling to keep up with a world that raced ahead without her.
Later, Miss Eliza handed her a cup of hot chocolate, the marshmallows melting into tiny white clouds on top.
“You've got a light in you, Maggie,” Miss Eliza said.
Maggie barked out a short laugh. “Not much of one these days.”
“Oh, child.” Miss Eliza’s eyes crinkled with kindness. “Jealousy’ll blind you to your own blessings quicker than just about anything. Don’t measure your life against someone else’s. God’s got a unique calling for you.” She tapped Maggie’s heart with a gentle finger. “It's still in there.”
The words found some cracked-open place in her heart she hadn’t realized was longing to be filled. Tears pricked her eyes again, but they were different tears this time—softer, freer.
“Do you think God really... sees me?” Maggie asked, fingers tightening around the warm mug.
“I know He does,” Miss Eliza said simply. “You’re never overlooked by the One who made you.”
As Maggie walked home under a sky pricked with stars, her steps were lighter. She looked up, lingering on the quiet shimmer of the heavens. Maybe Jordan’s path wasn’t meant to be hers. Maybe there was beauty yet to uncover along her own, exactly in the time and place God had for her.
At her front porch, she paused. A small white envelope sat tucked under her mail. Inside was a short note:
“We’re opening spots for art instructors next month. We’d love to have you on the team. Your heart for the community is just what we’re looking for.”
Signed: Director, Community Center.
Maggie hugged the letter to her chest, laughter bubbling from her like water from a fresh spring. Maybe the Lord hadn’t been silent after all. Maybe He’d simply been asking her to trust that her season of blooming was coming—in His perfect time.
---
Bible Verses:
