Kenya squeezed her eyes shut, picturing the national reach. “That’s okay, I can google the rest.”
Althea breathed a sigh of relief. “That is good to hear. Once these little piggies get out, they have a hard time getting back in.”
“Those are some great locations. We need more places like that in this area where we can work and relax. I’ve only ordered your scones online, but if the café is anything like you, I’m sure it is cozy and warm and very welcoming.”
“Well, thank you, baby. I’m all about putting my heart and soul into every location.” She exhaled with contentment. “This area already means a lot to me. Not only do I get to see a college friend on my visit but I’ve also come here to pray. I may be the steward, but God himself is the owner. There is no confirmation or creativity without him.”
That sat in Kenya’s core, settling into all those questioning places. She remained silent, hoping her seat neighbor would say more.
Althea didn’t disappoint. “I believe that every one of my restaurants should be an authentic and organic part of the community. I like to make personal trips to scope out the town for myself. This place is extra special because I went to college here. Alabama A&M, to be exact. But wherever I go, Holy Spirit and I get to talking, and he lets me know if this is a place to be and, if so, what it needs to look like.”
Kenya had never considered that. Letting God direct not just her life or her steps but her literal acts of creativity.
She had put so much effort into making the best designs come to life and creating experiences that people would never forget. All the while afraid that she would be forgotten in the process, and somehow her dyslexia would be a stumbling block to her success. So she tamped it down, hid it instead of trusting God to initiate the process.
Boy, this little bus ride was proving to be a master class in itself. And she was here for it. She had nothing else. Her well seemed to be dry. Her hope a little jerky, as rumbling as this bus when it hita pothole or two. She’d run over so many potholes in the past few months, each one breaking off a piece of her until it felt like she had nothing left but dusty crumbs, shards of broken pottery. But here she was, and the words of this kind stranger were a balm. Soothing and settling.
“I love the way you put that, Althea. Letting God basically be the director of everything.”
“And that he is.” Althea nodded. “We can’t think that the Creator of the world, the one who breathed out the stars at creation or breathed life into our lungs, wouldn’t have something to say about all the things he gives us to do. But the problem is, we get caught up in what we are trying to make happen instead of who we are doing it with.”
She closed her eyes and smiled, her face serene as if she was about to drift off into sweet sleep, but Kenya imagined something different. She pictured Althea settling back into a giant lap, a chest strong enough to hold and enclose. She saw Althea there, leaning against God himself, confident, settled, in perfect peace. She wished she could have that same assurance.
“God is the one who initiates the work. I can’t tell you how many times I tried and failed, trying to do things on my own. Trying to make my mark to prove that I had the right to belong wherever I stepped my foot.” She cracked open an eye at Kenya. “Probably around your age when I was running around like that.”
Kenya grinned. This woman had her number, for sure.
“But when I met my husband, I had to learn what it meant to not just be all about me but to be in unity. I thought that was gonna slay me and all I wanted to do. But I’m married to a good man, who trusts his good God. And he showed me what it meant for both of us to make our mark. Not because we strive toward it but because we have been marked by the Savior.”
Kenya’s eyes smarted. She picked up her tablet, suddenly warm on the well-air-conditioned bus. “You are bringing a whole sermon here, Miss Althea.”
“Honey, if that’s what you call a life lived, then I will take it. My husband can’t get out like he used to, but even in his wheelchair-bound state, that man is more free and more creative than anyone could imagine. And before every little trip I take, or every groundbreaking we attend, we sit before the Lord, even if we just have a minute, and ask him what he’s doing and what that has to do with us.”
She opened her eyes and set her kind, intelligent gaze fully on Kenya. “So now, here’s the benediction. What’s God doing in your life, Miss Kenya Stewart? And what do you have to do with it? You’ve been given a gift. You see the world in a different way. I noticed the way you handled the waitstaff at the hotel when there was an issue with the meeting setup. You disarmed them, corrected and encouraged—made them laugh. And then in fifteen minutes, you created a lovely table display that made the whole room delightful.”
Kenya basked in the beaming face of who she hoped would be a new friend.
“Don’t let your out-of-the-box vision make you think that you have to prove why you belong. Don’t conform to the expectations. Instead, as the Good Book says, ‘be transformed by the renewing of your mind.’ That doesn’t happen without God.”
She leaned over Kenya, looking out the window as they passed by the outskirts of Hope Springs. “I want to build places that last, not because they’re going to stand forever but because they speak of God’s glory. If you make sure that God is the one who starts your work, then I know that he will finish it. And it will be more than even you could have ever imagined.”
Althea stooped over to dig into her purse. She pulled out a tissue that smelled of lavender and handed it to Kenya.
“Oh ... thank you.” Kenya hadn’t even noticed the tears running down her cheeks. She thought Miss Althea had her number, but apparently God was the one who had her pegged. He knew exactly where to place her to give her exactly what she needed.
THENEXT DAY,after attending church with her family, Kenya drove up to Monte Sano Mountain. When she reached the parking lot that led to the circular overlook, she pulled her car into a parking spot and made her way out. She grabbed her stick, thankful for the support of it, even though she wasn’t planning on going hiking today.
These weeks of recovery had been impactful, but more so all the work and shaping that God was doing to her heart. And none of that would’ve happened if she hadn’t been forced to stop and sit. She surveyed the landscape before her, Monte Sano Mountain alive and rich with shades of bronze, orange, and even a cute peachy pink. She wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to say that a mountain in the fall bloomed, but that’s what it looked like to her. And God didn’t care about what words she used because her heart said all the things that she couldn’t always say.
Her vocabulary had never been that expansive. But she was thankful to Althea for the reminder that it didn’t take away from what God had put in her hands to do. She could take someone’s vision and turn it into a tangible experience. Bits and pieces of inspiration and material got her creative juices flowing. There were many times a request had been made to her agency for a last-minute event, and she had been called upon to execute a plan in excellence. Unlike the girl who never wanted to raise her hand in class, she ran to meet the needs in those hectic moments. Could God get the glory out of those times too? Even if her academic skills didn’t measure up to most?
What she did know for sure was she didn’t need to read perfectly to hunt out the perfect path to hike on this mountain. She gazed out over the expansive valley, the streets and buildings all blending into the masterpiece of the home she loved.Thank you,Lord,forallowing me to see this,and thank you for remindingme that always,always you see me too.
And Ihope you aren’t ashamed of the view.
31
THEOFFICE ELEVATORdoor dinged open. The sound that used to give Kenya a thrill of excitement now filled her with dread. The place that had given her life for so long now felt like a prison of failure.
