A man's heart plans his way, but [it is] the Lord [that] directs his steps.
Proverbs 16:9

Melchour

I lowered myself slowly onto the chair, feeling its familiar creak beneath me as I spread out the notes I was supposed to preach from last night. The title "Rivers of Living Water" stood bold at the top of the page, its ink smudged slightly from the hurried revisions I'd made just before the service. But as I stared at those words, I felt a quiet knowing settle over me, something far stronger than my own planning.

The Holy Spirit had moved differently. Instead of my neatly prepared sermon, a message welled up from deep within me, flowing from my heart like a river breaking free from its banks.

Indeed, many are the plans in a man's heart, but it's the Lord's will that will stand.

The memory of last night shimmered vividly in my mind. I could still see her—the woman I had brought into the church just the night before. A soft smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as I recalled her response to the message. There was wonder in it, a quiet awe. Nothing—nothing at all—is impossible with God.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the memory wash over me. The first time I had seen her, it was as if she carried a shadow with her, a heavy darkness that seemed to dim even the light around her. Misery had been etched deep into her face. But this morning, as I watched her walk through the church hallways, she looked transformed. It was a sight that never failed to fill me with quiet joy: the old self fading away, and something new—something holy and alive—rising in its place.

I found myself wondering where she was now. Had she already left the church? A slow breath escaped my lips as I leaned back in my chair, folding my hands behind my head and staring up at the ceiling. My thoughts drifted, quiet and reflective.

A knock at the door stirred me.

"Pastor Melchour?"

I sat up straighter, glancing toward the door.

"Yes, enter," I called.

The door creaked open, and Shiela, one of the church members, stepped inside. Her eyes were gentle, a hint of curiosity in her gaze as she lingered near the doorway.

"Pastor, the woman—Johanna Dumay—is about to leave. She asked me to tell you how grateful she is," she said softly.

"She's leaving already?" I murmured, my voice touched with surprise. "Why don't you invite her in so she can say it herself?"

"Are you sure, Pastor?" Shiela hesitated, her lips quirking into a soft, knowing smile. "I thought you might need to rest. Yesterday was... quite intense."

I offered her a reassuring smile. "That's alright. It won't take long, I'm sure."

She nodded, the smile widening. "Alright then, Pastor," she said, gently closing the door behind her as she left.

The quiet returned, but it didn't last long. A few moments later, another knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," I said, straightening in my chair.

The door swung open slowly, and Johanna stepped inside. She wore a pastel blue dress that softened her figure, the color catching the light in the room. Her movements were hesitant, almost tentative, as though unsure whether she was allowed to be here. When the door closed behind her, she stood still, her hands clasped before her, her gaze flitting uncertainly in my direction.

"Please, take a seat," I said gently. "Miss Johanna, isn't it?"

"Yes," she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of unspoken gratitude. "It's Johanna Dumay, Pastor."

"Alright, Johanna," I said, folding my hands together. "Shiela mentioned that you wanted to express your thanks. I just wanted to speak with you before you go. How are you feeling now?"

She hesitated before sitting down, her hands resting lightly in her lap. Slowly, almost shyly, she lifted her head to meet my gaze. Her eyes, once filled with heaviness, now shimmered with something new.

"I... I've never felt better, Pastor," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

A quiet smile spread across my lips.

"I know Shiela already told you, but I wanted to say it to you directly," she continued, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for yesterday, Pastor. And... thank you for your kindness the other night. I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't... taken me in."

I listened, the quiet awe of her transformation gripping me. The darkness that had once loomed over her was gone—completely gone—and in its place was light.

"Glory to God," I said softly. "I pray that the Lord will continue to reveal Himself to you as you walk with Him."

"Yes, yes, certainly, Pastor, I—"

Her words were cut short by the sharp trill of a phone ringtone. She glanced at her phone, and I saw the light fade from her face.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice gentle.

"I'm sorry, Pastor," she said, her shoulders sagging with regret. "It's my aunt... she'll be furious if I don't get back in fifteen minutes."

I nodded understandingly. "I see. But before you go, may I pray for you?"

She bowed her head, and I offered a prayer for her journey, her faith, her new beginning. When the prayer ended, she rose from her seat, her hands smoothing the fabric of her dress.

"Thank you so much again, Pastor. See you..." she paused at the door, turning to look back at me. "...next Sunday."

A wave of peace settled over me at her words.

"See you, Johanna," I said softly. She smiled, a genuine, gentle curve of her lips, and closed the door behind her.

I leaned back in my chair, my spirit settling into quiet satisfaction. I would see her again.

-------

Johanna

I stepped out of the church grounds, my heart still echoing with the prayer Pastor Melchour had spoken. The sun was beginning to dip behind the city's jagged skyline, streaking the sky with gold and rose hues. My pulse quickened as I glanced at my phone. Time was slipping away faster than I realized.

I'm so in trouble.

I hurried my steps, the soft tap of my shoes on the pavement growing louder as I scanned the street for a cab. My breath came in shallow bursts, but even in the midst of my panic, I couldn't bring myself to regret the choice I made last night. If I hadn't gone with Pastor Melchour—if I hadn't found myself beneath the church's quiet roof—I would never have experienced the wave of peace and hope that had washed over me during yesterday's service.

A yellow cab rounded the corner. I lifted my hand high, waving frantically.

"Taxi!" I called, my voice a bit breathless. The driver slowed, nodding as he pulled to the curb. I slipped into the back seat, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"Rimestone Restaurant, please," I said quickly, my voice edged with urgency.

The driver nodded without a word and the car lurched forward into the busy street. I sank back against the worn seat, watching as the city's neon lights flickered to life, painting streaks of color across the windows. I chewed lightly on my lip, the weight of my aunt's likely fury pressing against my chest.

I hope I get there on time, I thought anxiously. I hope she'll believe my explanation.

As the cab wove through the traffic, I found myself thinking of Pastor Melchour—his voice, his steady kindness, the way he had prayed with a weight that made the air hum. How could someone be that good at speaking? I wondered. Was it simply skill, or was it what Pastor Marina had called "the Anointing"?

I thought of the moments when his hand had rested lightly on my shoulder during prayer, when the air seemed to spark with unseen energy, when my skin tingled and my spirit lifted. Was it just emotion? Or... I pressed my lips together, unsure of the answer. Maybe it was something like what they call superpowers—but instead of coming from within, it came from God Himself.

⸻

The cab screeched to a halt in front of Rimestone Restaurant. I fumbled for my wallet, handed the driver the fare with a rushed, breathless thanks, and bolted from the car.

I could already hear the clatter of dishes and the sharp tone of my aunt's voice echoing through the thin walls of the restaurant. My stomach tightened as I opened the back door, stepping into the familiar mix of oil, garlic, and frying food.

"I'm sorry, Aunt Riza, I really am," I said quickly, my voice trembling at the edges. "I didn't mean to be out that long—it's just that we had a revival at church and—"

"A revival?" Her voice cut sharply across my words, slicing the air like a knife. "What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

I flinched under her glare, her words like slaps against my skin. My gaze dropped, and I found myself staring at the hem of my borrowed dress.

"Look at this dress, Aunt Riza," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I pinched the fabric lightly, lifting it slightly for her to see. "It's not mine. One of the ladies at church lent it to me because my clothes weren't dry. Please, Aunt Riza, I'm telling the truth!"

Her eyes narrowed dangerously. I barely saw her hand before it shot out, yanking at my hair with such force I gasped in pain. My scalp burned as she tugged, her hands shaking with frustration.

"You little—!"

"Aunt Riza, please!" I whimpered, my voice breaking as my head was pulled from side to side. My breath caught painfully in my throat.

Her grip loosened just enough for me to stumble back. "I—I'll make it up to you this week, Aunt Riza," I stammered, trying to soothe her rising temper. "I'll serve in the restaurant after classes, every day. I'll make it up to you."

Her fingers finally released their grip from my tangled hair. I stepped back hurriedly, rubbing my tender scalp.

"Crazy wench..." she muttered, her voice low and seething as she banged the kitchen door behind her, leaving me alone in the dim, greasy light of the kitchen.

I drew in a shaky breath, my hands pressed lightly to my chest, feeling the rapid thump of my heart as it slowly began to settle.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the hot sting of tears to stop. "Lord," I whispered, barely daring to speak aloud. "I know my aunt's heart may take time to soften, but Lord... I need You. Help me through this."

⸻

I threw myself into the rest of the evening's work, wiping tables, taking orders, and forcing a smile when regulars nodded in greeting. But beneath it all was a weight of sadness that clung to me, heavy and unrelenting.

When I finally left for my small apartment, the air was heavy with the scent of rain and car exhaust. I climbed the steps wearily, every muscle aching, my heart still burdened by Aunt Riza's anger.

I dropped my bag by the door, only to be greeted by the overpowering smell of Emperador liquor and stale cigarette smoke. The stench curled around me, unwelcome and choking.

I groaned softly. "Not quite over, Johanna. Not quite," I murmured bitterly, rubbing my tired eyes as I stumbled toward the bathroom.

-----

The next morning, I stood before the cracked mirror in my small apartment. The pale sunlight streamed through the threadbare curtains, illuminating the simple space with a quiet glow. I had set aside the clothes I wore yesterday—the borrowed pastel dress folded neatly on the chair. Instead, I was dressed in something new.

I lifted a soft, blue shirt over my shoulders, smoothing it down, its fabric a gentle contrast to my usual rough, oversized sweaters. Over it, I pulled on a cardigan, its knitted threads catching faint sunlight like fine silver. The tattered jeans I'd always worn—the ones sagging at the waist and torn at the knees—had been replaced with dark denim, snug and proper.

I stared at my reflection. For a moment, I didn't recognize the woman in the glass. Her hair, though still loose, had been brushed and pinned slightly behind her ear. The usual guarded, rigid smile I wore had softened into something warmer, almost hesitant, like a new bloom testing its first sunlight.

Born again.

The phrase lingered in my mind like the delicate echo of a hymn. A satisfied breath escaped my lips, a mix of relief and quiet amazement. With a final glance in the mirror, I slipped a new sling bag over my shoulder, feeling its unfamiliar weight.

Indeed, nothing is impossible with God.

I left the apartment, the door clicking shut behind me, stepping into a world that somehow felt both familiar and transformed.

⸻

"Anna! Good morning!" Mer's voice rang out as I approached the college building. Her voice was light, but I could hear the teasing tone behind her words. "You owe me one—why'd you disappear the other night?"

I hesitated, shifting slightly on my feet. "Hey Mer..." I said, the weight of my thoughts slowing my voice.

Her eyes flickered down, catching sight of my new clothes. Her teasing expression faltered, surprise widening her eyes. "Wait a sec..." She tilted her head, her gaze sharpening. "Something seems... different about you."

She stepped closer, her hands lightly gripping my shoulders, as if trying to examine me from every angle. Her head tilted this way and that, like a cat curious about a new scent.

"Who gave you those clothes?" she finally asked, her voice tinged with bewilderment and amusement. "You look so..." She broke into a light, surprised laugh.

"Decent?" I offered, a wry smile tugging at the corners of my lips.

"I bought them," I said softly, almost embarrassed. "Last night."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow, her arms crossing. "Really? So you're on your 'good student' fashion season now, huh?"

I shook my head, a hint of a smile playing on my lips. "Not exactly. It's... well, it's a little hard to explain." I glanced away, the words tumbling and hesitating. "Maybe I'll tell you later. For now, let's just say... it's my new preferred dress code."

Mer narrowed her eyes, a teasing grin dancing on her lips. "Mmm... okay, whatever you say." She let out a soft chuckle as she began walking beside me.

But then her voice grew more insistent, more curious. "You still haven't told me, though. Where'd you disappear to the other night?"

I sighed, biting my lower lip. The words tangled on my tongue, memories from the church flashing behind my eyes—the worship, the message, the prayer, the sense of peace. How could I explain something that felt too big for words?

"I didn't really go anywhere per se," I said slowly, my voice faltering. "It was kind of... unexpected." I let out a soft breath. "I'll tell you later, Mer. I promise. But right now, I really need to get to the library."

I gestured toward the library building a few meters ahead, its tall windows glinting in the morning light.

Mer grinned, giving me a playful nudge on the arm. "Okay then. See you later, Anna!"

"See ya!" I called, watching her walk off toward her classroom. As soon as she disappeared inside the building, I broke into a sprint toward the library, my breath catching lightly with the effort.

I dug my phone out of my pocket, my eyes widening as I checked the time. Eleven more minutes... I whispered under my breath, my legs pushing me up the stairs two at a time.