Inspirations from 'Six Hours, One Friday' by Max Lucado

In her late twenties.

Trapped unconsciously with a car loan, a study loan, insurance policy, internet bills, mobile bills and other high miscellanous expenses. Little things amount to a lot. Massive actually. At the end of the day, she is worn out and surprisingly broke. Surviving but mangled with worry. To top it all, she prays everyday for peace and more love in her family. Let there not be squabbles over petty issues, and important ones too. Yet they happen.

But most of all,she implores understanding from her parents and both of her siblings, and how she wants to be treated.

She does not mention these to their faces. Perhaps to a confidante or two. Or three. The few she trusts with her life. It is weary to keep so many troubles of layered piles, destroying ounces of composure deep within.

So she puts on a mask in the form of a smile. Always without fail she emerges to drift through life giving a smooth sailing impression. Rosy on the outside, but thorny all the way in.

Did you ever stop awhile to look behind that smile? Or the image she encapsulates herself in?
Do you question her strength and credibility? Even ask the burdens she carry?

Of course she tries not to tell. She hates being ridiculed. She has her pride, her need to uplift honor. So she plays a role so opposite her true self. She projects happiness to drown the sorrows. You will never get to see her bleeding heart. Or her broken soul.

But she is not down. Not beaten to a pulp. Pulling herself together, she stands against the harsh weather. Acknowledging her weaknesses, she does what she feels possible to rectify the wounds of her mistakes. Her wrong choices.

Closing her eyes, she identifies her main folly. Career. She works but she knows she has potential to do better. There are days when work is unproductive and there is little to look forward to. Recession is about to hit Malaysia. A chance of promotion seems bleak when business is not picking up. She lives in fear of a sudden "I'm sorry we no longer need your services in this company." Her world would come crashing down like millions of shattered dreams. She cannot depend on the graciousness of her Operation Director all these while. No matter how kind her superior is, or how compassionate, business talks. Her operation director needs a credible worker. Hardworking, result-oriented. She has to be that.

Badly in need of a miracle and a saving grace, she can almost drive herself mad. Yet days come and go with her being at the crossroads over and over again. Her conscience heavily embarks on guilt and self loathe on her underachievement. Comfort is one thing she never thought she can have. She forgets that she is not alone. When everyone else turns a deaf ear, or is oblivious of her plight, she has yet to approach this man.

Not her father.
Not her uncle.
Not her friend.
Or any other.

Just this man.
Once a man who died on a Cross.
No ordinary man.

Who is he?