Chapter 4. Hidden threads

The sanctuary still trembled faintly from the echoes of worship.

It was the kind of morning where heaven felt closer—where the last chord of the last song didn't end the worship but deepened it.

Jessica lingered near the front, her hands clasped loosely, eyes closed for a moment longer.

"Thank You, Father," she whispered silently, heart wide open.

"I don't know what You're doing. But I trust You. Completely."

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking into the warmth of the sun pouring through the high windows. Her wavy brown hair caught the light, framing her in a soft halo. She smiled, feeling God's peace settle deep in her bones.

Around her, life bustled.

Lydia was gathering offering envelopes with quick, practiced hands. Little kids ran giggling between pews. Church aunties swapped recipes and prayer requests at the coffee counter. And Jessica's dad—ever the joyful mischief-maker—was animatedly telling a group of men about last week's barbecue disaster.

"Let me tell you," he said loudly, grinning, "you haven't lived until you've seen a man try to save his steak with a squirt gun!"

The men roared with laughter.

Jessica chuckled under her breath and bent to pick up a crumpled bulletin from the floor.

Her family wasn't fancy.

They were loud, messy, real.

And rooted deep in Jesus.

"Jess, breathe," Lydia teased, nudging her gently. "It's fellowship hour, not final exams."

Jessica laughed, her brown eyes warm.

"I know. I just... I want to do everything as unto the Lord. Even the clean-up."

Lydia rolled her eyes affectionately.

"You're gonna get a crown so heavy, you'll need a neck brace in heaven."

Jessica shook her head, smiling wide.

And deep inside, her heart whispered again:

"I trust You, God. Even in what I can't see."

---

Michael stood quietly near the hospitality table.

He watched the life unfolding around him—the easy smiles, the handshakes, the crinkled eyes of elders telling stories.

It made something ache deep inside him.

This was home.

Not because of the walls, but because of the Spirit breathing between the people.

He sipped lukewarm coffee, but his focus wasn't on the cup in his hand.

His eyes searched...

Not frantically.

Just patiently.

And there—there she was again.

The girl he hadn't seen clearly.

The girl who had left a fingerprint on his heart before he knew her name.

She moved with grace through the sanctuary, her movements thoughtful, her spirit gentle.

Michael's heart stirred.

He slid his hand into his jacket pocket and felt the folded note Jessica had written—the one tucked into the welcome Bible earlier. The handwriting… it matched the journal he had once seen abandoned on a café table weeks ago. A journal full of prayers he had glimpsed for only a few seconds. Words full of faith, longing, hope.

"Whoever she is," he thought, "she knows what she wants. Just like me."

He smiled quietly.

His mom touched his elbow.

"Come on, baby, Grandma's waiting for us."

"In a minute," he said, still watching.

He didn't need to chase.

He trusted God's hand more than his own timing.

---

Jessica bent down to grab a forgotten Sunday School coloring sheet.

A small card slipped out from her tote bag—a list of prayers she had written late last night, weeping before the Lord.

She hadn't even realized she had packed it along.

Michael noticed it flutter to the floor from a few steps away.

He moved before he could second-guess, stooping to pick it up.

He didn't pry.

He only caught a few words written in neat, hopeful cursive:

"Faith to wait when it's lonely."

"Eyes to see the man You choose, not the one I chase."

"A heart prepared to be a blessing, not just be blessed."

Michael swallowed hard.

He pressed the card gently onto a nearby chair where she would find it.

He didn't need to read more.

He understood more in that moment about her heart than any conversation could have told him.

She wasn't just beautiful.

She was anchored.

She belonged to Someone far bigger than herself.

---

Lydia called across the room, waving Jessica over.

"Girl, come on, your dad's about to drive off without us and blame it on 'divine impatience'!"

Jessica laughed and jogged lightly across the sanctuary.

As she passed, a breeze stirred her hair, and for the briefest second, Michael caught the soft, clear profile of her face—bright eyes, sun-warmed skin and her beautiful smiled.

And just like that, she was gone—swept into the tide of church family noise and Sunday schedules.

Michael stood still for a long moment.

The sun spilled across the floor.

Children's laughter floated high.

And somewhere deep inside, a prayer rose in his chest without words:

"Lord, if she is the one... prepare me to love her like You would."

---

Jessica slipped into her family's car, tossing her tote bag into the backseat.

Her dad started the engine dramatically, saying, "Hold tight, passengers. Captain Dad is taking flight in three... two..."

Jessica's mom swatted his shoulder gently, laughing, "Drive safely, please."

Jessica leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes, her heart whispering softly,

"Father, thank You for today. Thank You for every hidden seed You're planting in the unseen. I trust You. Not because I see—but because I know You are good."

The car rolled out of the church parking lot, and somewhere, a story already planted in heaven began to grow roots deeper still.

They hadn't spoken yet.

They hadn't even really seen each other.

But God had.

And He wasn't finished weaving.

Not yet.