The Makeover Page 7

  He did the only thing a prayer warrior could do in this situation.

  He prayed.

  “Father, reassure me one last time. Did I hear from You these past couple of weeks? Did You tell me to come to the park this morning? Please verify what’s going on because I am wondering now if I really heard from You, Lord. Please in the name of Jesus, let me know why I am sitting here waiting. Please tell me what I am waiting for, Lord? I thought You wanted me to come here this morning to go running. I thought I had a word from You that I would be meeting the girl. I did what You said and even brought my business card. Please confirm for me, again, Lord. Please.”

  Paulo did not hear an answer but he had an urge to go to the Word as an Old Testament Book came to mind. “Habakkuk?” Paulo asked. “Wow, haven’t read that one before.” He pulled out his smart phone, logged onto his favorite bible app, and was in the Old Testament in a blink. His eyes landed on Habakkuk 2:1-3. He read, “Then the LORD said to me, write my answer plainly on tablets, so that a runner can carry the correct message to others. This vision is for a future time. It describes the end, and it will be fulfilled. If it seems slow in coming, wait patiently, for it will surely take place. It will not be delayed.”

  Paulo read the passage out loud three times, amazed at how directly the Lord had answered him. His eyes landed on the word “runner” and he burst into laughter. “You have a sense of humor, Lord.”

  Renewed in his faith, Paulo glanced around the car. He felt the Spirit’s presence when he spoke firmly, saying, “I command all forces of darkness to leave me, my car, and my path right now, in the mighty Name of Jesus. The Word says no weapon formed against me shall prosper. I cast down, right now, all thoughts that exalt themselves against the Word of God. In Jesus Name, leave me!”

  Satan fumed as he disappeared.

  Humbled again by the power of God’s Word, Paulo focused on the music and went back to doing what the Lord had instructed him to do.

  He waited.

  Exactly one hour and a half after that, the Lord spoke one word into Paulo’s heart:

  Now.

  Startled, Paulo jumped out of the car and walked over to the park where he would begin his mid-morning jog. Almost three hours had passed since he had arrived and he was grateful to stretch his legs. He walked slowly to the park, his heart beating. Music thundered in the streets, along with horns and sirens. Children yelled and giggled in the background as Paulo continued his walk through the public housing buildings that provided the short cut to his favorite park.

  Even with so many confirmations, Paulo still struggled with the doubt that fought against his seasoned faith. This time, however, it was Paulo’s flesh that was struggling. He continued to pray. He silently prayed that all he had done had not been in vain. He prayed that he wasn’t crazy, that he had not heard voices and seen visions that were false. He would be crushed. It wouldn’t be the first time he thought he had heard from God, only to discover that it was a lie straight from the pits from hell. Yes he had received scriptural confirmation, but what if the enemy had used God’s word against him? Hasn’t that been something the devil had done from the beginning of time? Wasn’t it Satan’s priority to twist and turn God’s precious Word into something self-serving and dark in the minds of millions?

  “Oh God, I hope I didn’t wait here for nothing,” Paulo whispered as he made his way to the park.

  Satan is a liar. The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.

  “Thanks, God. I know I ought to be past this point but sometimes I need you to hold my hand, even now, Lord,” Paulo whispered as he continued the path into the park.

  When he arrived, he scanned the park. Dejected that no one was there, Paulo began to stretch his limbs in anticipation of his jog. “I guess God will work this out. I need to run.”

  And run he did. Picking up speed, he jogged the perimeter of the park twice before he realized that the summer heat had risen almost imperceptibly in the air. Paulo paused by a tree to catch his breath, take a sip of the bottled water he had strapped to his leg. After a few minutes he pulled his drenched tee shirt off and tied it around his neck. Stripped down to his shorts, he resumed his run.

  As he passed the entrance of the park, he almost stumbled.

  There she was.

  The woman he had seen in his friend’s building.

  “Dear God,” Paulo cried out, ashamed that he had doubted. “I’m sorry for my unbelief.”

  There the woman was, furiously smoking on a cigarette. She was hunched over, her shoulders quaking as she wiped furiously at her nose with a crumbled napkin.

  Now that the woman had shown up, Paulo had no idea what to do.

  “God, I doubted you and I am sorry. You are truly in control. Please, Lord, lead me. Show me what to do, how to do it, and when to do it.”

  Paulo continued to run, making sure to pass the woman. Just as he passed her bench, she looked up. Paulo smiled and waved as recognition exploded in her red-tinged eyes before she looked back down into her lap. Paulo continued to run as he waited on God’s timing.

  After several laps, after watching the woman cry and smoke for several minutes, Paulo felt the Lord give him a release. Sighing, Paulo uttered one last prayer. “God, have Your way. Not mine, not hers, but Yours.”

  And the Lord heard.

  Chapter 7

  God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted (Isaiah 43:2).

  A few minutes before, Phoenix heard footsteps pounding in the dark stairwell in which she had been hiding. Panting, she hoisted herself from her perch on the steps and slipped out into the lobby, just as several teenage boys ran past her. Relieved they didn’t notice her, she struggled to draw in deeper breaths.

  Calm down, Fe. You got to go out there and face people.

  She found the crumpled napkin in her pocket and wiped her face as best she could. Sighing, she left the lobby and practically sprinted past the group of men.

  “Hey, did you see your mother?” Mr. Rodriguez called to her.

  “Yes, sir. But I can’t talk now. Have a good day,” she called.

  Phoenix left the complex and stood at the curb with her arm raised to hail a cab. She saw many cabs whizzing past her.

  What she did not see, however, were the angels of the Lord that appeared beside her. Caliel touched her head and whispered in her ear, “Go sit in the park.”

  As quickly as the angels came, they were gone. And Phoenix suddenly had an overwhelming urge to sit in the park. She left the corner and kept walking until she reached the nearby playground close to her mother’s apartment complex. Spotting an elderly man, she walked over to him, pulling out a dollar.

  “Sir, can I please buy a cigarette from you?” Phoenix could taste the cigarette she had not had in over five years.

  The man looked at her, and then her dollar, before reaching into his pocket to pull out the crumpled box of Newport 100s. “Young lady, you take it. Look like you need it more than me. Matter of fact, take three.”

  “Thanks,” she said as she bent to let the man light the cigarette for her.

  Phoenix found herself near the back entrance of the playground, grateful that it was empty of the usual rambunctious children and overwrought mothers. She inhaled deeply as her mother’s words and Cedric’s fought for space in her head.

  Phoenix sucked on that cigarette for dear life, while placing her head in her hand. Her shoulders shook with her sobs.

  Nearby, a man was running through the park. Phoenix glanced at his tall, lean shirtless frame. He smiled and waved as he ran past her.

  Oh my God. He looks like that guy I saw in my building two weeks ago.

  She looked back down again and continued her cry, sucking relentlessly from her cigarette for several moments. Her head pounded.

  God, I am sorry about the way I talked to my mother. But sometimes I hate her! No I don’t…except I do. God help me, but sometimes I don’t feel like I love her at all. I know I’m wrong, but she is never there f
or me emotionally. How could she say those things, God? How could Cedric? I love them both and they don’t love me because of my looks. He doesn’t have to, but she gave birth to me. It’s worse what she said because she is supposed to love me no matter what, God. But she doesn’t. I guess I am just a huge disappointment to everyone. Doesn’t matter what kind of person I am on the inside, or how much I do and have done for them. Doesn’t matter how much I have accomplished in my life. All they see are my imperfections.

  Phoenix continued to drag on her cigarette.

  She sat there, wishing for someone, anyone, to look beyond her flaws and frailties in order to love her, really love her. She wanted someone to put her first, even for a few minutes, for once in her life.

  ‘You have no right to make such demands in your situation!’ How could my own mother even say that to me, God? Like because I need to lose a few pounds, I have no right to expect someone to love me and cherish me? To treat me with respect? Because I am not a perfect ten?

  How she yearned for her mother to grab onto her and pull her into comfort and encouragement with hugs and warm words. How she wished her mother had the strength to lend her when she was weak. But her mother had always been cold. For most of Phoenix’s life, her mother was the type to drive a knife into an already festering wound with an ‘I told you so’ or ‘it serves you right.’ And Phoenix knew that her mother would give her the silent treatment, would blame her for defending herself. Her mother would accuse her of being disrespectful, but not admit that she had fueled Phoenix’s anger with her own callous words. Her mother had thought it was foolish for Phoenix to expect a hug, or some sort of comfort, to help her through her anguish. It hurt that Magalie would never allow herself to admit that she had basically undermined her daughter’s self-worth.

  Phoenix shivered with pent-up frustration. Phoenix knew that although she had been the one experiencing heartbreak and pain, Magalie would make the situation about herself. She would never reach out to Phoenix and Phoenix knew it. She knew it because her mother never apologized, and never, ever admitted when she was wrong. Everything was always everyone else’s fault. Ever since her father had begun tearing apart Magalie’s heart, her mother wore her prideful bitterness like skin. It was fixed, immovable, unyielding, and attached to her very being.

  “God,” she whispered, out loud now. “If You are listening, please help. I’m broken on the outside and now on the inside too. Please send me someone to help me become the woman I know I can be on the outside, so that it can line up with who I can be on the inside. Please send me someone who can help me love myself again. And if You’re willing, please send me someone who will love me unconditionally. I need to be loved God. Everyone deserves love, God, no matter how they look. I need to be loved by somebody who will look past my flaws and see my beauty on the inside. I need somebody who can love me even if I don’t look so good on the outside…”

  Realizing that she had never known that type of love, not even from her own mother, she began to sob again for several minutes, still sucking away on the Newport 100.

  “God, I wish I had someone who could just…just hold me, Lord.”

  Finishing the cigarette, Phoenix dug the second one from her pocket and lit it with the flame from the first. “God, I feel like someone has ripped my insides out. I need help now, God. I don’t know what I can do, Lord. What should I do? I need someone to help me get past being ugly on the outside, before I get ugly on the inside too. I need someone who will literally hold my hand through the process, God. I need someone to help me get a makeover. Are You gonna help me, God?”

  She paused, expecting God to respond to her the way He used to when she paid more attention to Him. That was before Cedric, and school, and her family began to take over her life. But He didn’t answer. Of course He didn’t have anything to say to her. After all, what could He say? Wasn’t it God who had made her this way? Wasn’t He the one who decided, as he knit her together in her mother’s womb, that she would be this girl that was too ugly to love?

  Seriously, what could God have to say about all this?

  Sucking her teeth, Phoenix let out a moan.

  “Are you alright, Miss?” said the rough, lilting voice.

  Phoenix looked up and caught her breath.

  Standing before her was the most handsome man she had ever seen. She had seen him in her building before, but it felt as though it were the first time she had ever really looked at him. His eyes were liquid gold and his full lips were wearing a smile that was wide, but careful. The sharp angles of his cheekbones, strong jaw, and chin did not detract from his youthful face. His body, stripped down to a pair of baggy shorts and a rumpled tee shirt around his shoulders, was very tall and decorated with thick muscles and a spattering of hair. His café au lait skin was glistening. His curly black hair, with streaks of gray, was covered in a baseball cap worn backwards.

  “Miss, are you alright?” the man repeated, wiping his brow with his forearm.

  Phoenix breathed. Then blinked. “Uh-uh, yes,” she stammered.

  The man chuckled and sat down next to her on the bench. He took a swig from the bottled water that was strapped to his thigh. “Forgive me for intruding. I was running, as you can see, but I had the urge to stop and check on you. Forgive me, but I don’t think you are alright. Please, tell me, what is wrong?”

  Phoenix stared at the man.

  “Miss? Let me try again. I am Paulo Elias. And what is your name, please?”

  “Wait,” she whispered. “Haven’t I seen you before?”

  “You do look familiar.” Paulo smiled. “And your name?

  He is that guy I bumped into in the building. Of course he doesn’t remember me, why should he? “It’s Phoenix.”

  “Phoenix,” Paulo repeated in his lilting accent, then laughed. “Beautiful name. You know what the phoenix is, don’t you?”

  “My mother named me Phoenix because that is where she was when I was conceived…”

  “Okay, but surely you know about the phoenix?”

  Phoenix cleared her throat and looked away, unable to stand the engulfing light shining from his eyes.

  “Phoenix?” Paulo said, leaning forward.

  “Why don’t you just tell me?”

  “Gladly. The phoenix is a mythical bird, a beautiful bird that lives a long time and goes through many struggles. Right at the end of its life, it builds itself a new home, then it goes through a process of being burned with a fire so fierce it is reduced to ashes. After it is burned, a new phoenix comes to life. The phoenix rises from the ashes, destined to live again.”

  Phoenix blinked.

  “So whatever you are going through, Phoenix, whatever way you have been burned, it does not matter. You will rise from the ashes to live the life you were meant to have. I feel it.”

  She marveled at this stranger.

  “But if you are going to live a new life, you can start by putting down your old one.”

  With that, Paulo gently took the cigarette from her hand and tossed it to the ground. “Why don’t you tell me your story, Phoenix?”

  Phoenix stared at the man, trying to muster up anger at his presumption. He had taken her cigarette the way an adult takes a pair of scissors from a child. But she could not even get angry at that point. She looked away and tried to find the words to tell her story.

  Looking at the man, she knew it would be a waste of time.

  Chapter 8

  Humble yourselves, therefore, under God’s mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. (1 Peter 5:6)

  “No.”

  Paulo blinked. “No?”

  He leaned forward to stare into Phoenix’s eyes. Wow, her eyes are beautiful. A man could get lost in them. This woman has lived hard and loved even harder.

  “No,” Phoenix repeated, pursing her lips.

  “Seriously? You don’t want to share your story with me?” He gently tapped her shoulder as if the gesture would ask why?

  Phoenix felt her stomach
tie itself into a thousand tiny knots then pull. “What’s the point? You can’t help me even if you want to.”

  “How do you know that? Perhaps I am here specifically for that reason.”

  “Besides that, you don’t even know me. Why would you even care?”

  “You’re right. I don’t know you and maybe I shouldn’t care. But I do care to get to know you, if you will allow me to.”

  It was Phoenix’s turn to stare again but her stomach hurt as she did. It was hard being so close to so much raw beauty knowing she was the polar opposite of beautiful. She pulled her eyes away to stare at the trees across the park, wondering if he could see into her pores, if the sun was causing her skin to shine with its usual unhealthy shade of ashy. She wondered if he could smell her sourness as her mother had done. “I doubt you’ll be interested,” she said to the trees.

  “The way I see it, you are here on this bench, with puffy eyes that scream defeat. You’ve been through the worst of the worst and have nowhere else to go, or else why would you be sitting here alone on this bench? Clearly you have nothing to lose.”

  You’re right about that. Phoenix sighed. “But why would you care to listen to me? You don’t even know me, Dude.”

  Paulo chuckled again. “Perhaps I know more about you than you could ever imagine. Besides, are you saying we should only be concerned for one another as human beings when we know someone directly? I know you are a young woman who is hurting. I know Father God created you just like He created me, so technically we are brother and sister. We’re family! You never know someone like the way you know your own family.”

  A smile began to play at Phoenix’s lips. “Tell me about it. Sometimes what we learn about our family can destroy us.”