It seemed she had a million pounds tied around her shoulders as she painfully reached up to grab the back of the chair to drag herself up from the floor. She had no more tears to cry. Her makeup ran down her cheeks like watercolor does when a child uses too much water when painting. Her eyes had a deep, hollow look as if no one was there. She stood there on trembling knees balancing her self one moment away from falling again. The reality of her situation had not weakened the slightest, but she knew it was time to move forward. But what would she do? Where would she go? She was totally alone now or so she thought. Somehow she made her way to the bathroom. She did not know the reflection that stared back at her. How ugly you are, she thought. How did you ever sink this low? Mother sure would be disappointed in you. Just look at you. You’re pathetic. You deserve to be here. Why don’t you just lie down and die. You are worthless and there is no reason to go on. A cold gleam caught her eye just to her right hand on the cold white porcelain. It is cold isn’t it? I’ve never felt this cold before. I wonder if this is what death feels like, cold, empty, silent and lonely, totally alone. The rusty razor called to her. Pick me up. It’s okay, death is much better than all of this. You won’t hurt and no one will hurt you ever again. Pick me up. It won’t hurt and you won’t hurt. Pick me up. She stared out it for a long time then as if reaching for a pill gently picked it up. It was an ugly sort of thing. At one time it was probably all shiny and clean. Now it was rusty and ugly with a few dents along the edge of the blade. Um, looks like I feel, cold, dirty, dull and useless. But, it did have one more use. It could free her from all this pain and loneliness. Is this what hell feels like, this miserable, relentless loneliness? She raised the razor and pushed the blade to her left wrist. She thought she heard someone say, “Look up.” She raised her head a little and noticed a cheap little bathroom plaque on the wall just above the mirror.
Joh 3:16 For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.
She paused and had a faded memory of someone saying those exact words to her. She could not remember who, but she could hear his voice as if he was standing next to her. She lay the razor on the sink and reached her hand up to the plaque and touched it as if it would speak. It was Sunday school; yes that was it, Sunday school. She was wearing a pink dress. Oh, how she loved that dress. It was so light and frilly, just like a daisy pedal was. Amy, come on now; hurry or we’ll be late. You know how much papa dislikes it when we are late. You don’t want to miss the water coloring do you? She loved painting with water color. The Sunday school teacher had hundreds of brilliant colors and she would let them use them all. Painting made her fell like someone special. She could paint what was in her mind and then imagine she was there. She could actually feel the sunshine from the bright yellow sun she painted and feel the breeze tugging at her dress.
Startled, she jumped back as the plaque fell from the wall and hit the cold hard sink. The glass broke and the plaque lay face down on the dirty floor. The cold reality of her surroundings began creeping in on her again. She stood there silent, held firm between two thoughts. Pick up the razor or the plaque. She heard the voice again. “Look up my child.” She looked up and her face was met with a warm glow just like when she painted the sun with water color in Sunday school. “I am here with you. Do not be afraid.” She felt warmth deep within her heart that had been gone for many years. She picked up the plaque and placed it back on the wall. She looked in the mirror and saw herself. There was that smile, that wonderful smile everyone use to tell her she had. The plaque hung on the wall a little crooked. She reached up and adjusted it straight. She smiled at the mirror, then turned and walked away.