30. Sunday Morning
Sunday Morning
Eleanor
The weight on my chest feels lighter. It’s still there, but it no longer crushes me into oblivion. It sits like a reminder instead, a whisper from God saying, Look where I’ve brought you from.
I’ve thrown myself into the Bible these past two weeks, reading from sunup to sundown, devouring every note Lily has scribbled in the margins, and even scouring the internet for verses I didn’t understand.
I didn’t realize how quickly an entire outlook on life could shift. I don’t feel alone anymore. Instead, I feel a love that doesn’t make sense, a presence that presses against my ribs and fills every hollow part of me. And for the first time, I can’t help but believe in the One who saved me.
I’m not an expert—not even close. But I want more. I want to dive deeper than I’ve ever imagined, to hold onto this feeling that’s swallowed me whole and consumed me in the best way.
After finishing John, I started to pray. It was messy at first, my words tangling, and tears streaking my cheeks, but I kept going. I laid down every fear, every failure, every aching thing at the feet of Jesus. I wept. I screamed. Sometimes I begged for the pain to be taken away.
And there He was. Meeting me right where I was. Just like Evelyn said He would.
I prayed for healing. That food would no longer be a weapon or a battle, but a normal part of life. That the words my mother had spoken over me would lose their power. That I could live a life that honored the body God had given me instead of punishing it.
I prayed for my future. I had no idea what it would look like anymore, but I knew I couldn’t keep dancing.
The conviction was too strong. Every time I thought about ballet, my stomach turned.
It felt like stepping back into the very cage that once held me captive.
And while the uncertainty of what came next scared me, I trusted God to guide my steps, to not let me fall.
And then, I prayed for Nik. I poured out every desire I had for him. I prayed he would forgive me. That he would look at me again and be able to trust me. I prayed for just one conversation—not a text, not a call, but face-to-face. That he would have the heart to hear me out.
My heart still longs for Nik in ways I don’t expect.
Even with God’s love filling so many of my empty places, there’s still a corner of me that aches for his presence.
His warmth, his kindness, his humor, and above all, his love.
If I don’t try at least one more time, I know it will be one of the greatest losses of my life. And I can’t bear to leave it like that.
I grab my beanie and tug it over my head, grateful that my hair is finally starting to grow back healthy again.
In the past few weeks, with Evelyn’s help and a steady meal plan, I’ve gained seven pounds.
Back up to one-hundred and five instead of ninety-eight.
It isn’t much, but it’s a step. A small victory.
I slip on my caramel-colored coat and check that my walking boot is secure. With all the snow that’s fallen lately, the last thing I need is to wipe out in a grocery store parking lot.
I call for a cab and sit by the window to wait. Grocery shopping still feels complicated. Part of me is eager for a sense of normalcy, but another part of me dreads it. It’s like the shelves are waiting to collapse on top of me, crushing all the fragile progress I’ve made.
But I refuse to let fear stop me. The only way forward is through, and I know I’m not walking alone. God is beside me, and that truth steadies me.
It also helps that Evelyn gives me a shopping list each week, breaking the task into something manageable.
In one of our sessions, she sat with me and went through every food I felt safe enough to try, building a list from there.
Each week we add something new, sometimes even a dessert.
When I confessed my fear of sugar, she grew determined to prove that small indulgences were not only okay but necessary.
That a piece of chocolate wouldn’t undo my recovery or ruin me.
That life wasn’t meant to be lived in fear of food.
When the cab pulls up, I grab my purse, lock the door behind me, and slide into the warmth of the back seat. After giving the driver the address, I rest my head against the window, watching as sunlight and snow blur together in a silver-white haze.
Halfway there, the car slows. A line of traffic stretches out in front of us. Strange for a Sunday morning.
I peer out the window and spot the reason. Car after car turns into the lot of the same church where Irina’s funeral was held.
“It’s always like this around this time. That church stays busy. But don’t worry, it shouldn’t take long,” the driver explains.
I nod faintly, but my attention is fixed outside. Something in me stirs, like a pull deep in my gut, insistent and undeniable. Go. Now, Someone whispers.
“I actually think I’m going to get out here,” I blurt, fumbling in my purse for cash.
The driver turns, brows raised. “You sure? Your stop’s still a ways off.”
“I’m sure,” I say, pressing the bills into his hand before I lose my nerve. “Keep the change.”
Before he can argue, I push the door open, cold air rushing in. Hobbling onto the sidewalk, I head toward the crosswalk, the church rising ahead of me, waiting like it’s been placed in my path on purpose.
Last week, when I told Lily I’d been reading her Bible, she nearly screamed with joy and immediately invited me to church. At the time, I declined. I’d never gone before, and my only exposure to it had been in movies, and most of the time, it wasn’t good.
But standing in front of the building now… all I feel is peace. Like I belong here. Nerves simmer beneath my skin, but for the first time, I feel ready to take this unexpected step of faith.
Inside, a friendly woman wearing a lanyard greets me with a warm smile and a simple, hello. She hands me a piece of cardstock labeled notes and guides me toward the doors of a large room.
The music is already playing. The bass vibrates through the walls, pulsing under my skin. When the doors open, I step inside and immediately recognize the voice over the microphone. Dillon.
His voice is mesmerizing, every word seeming to pour straight from his soul. I scan the room, awestruck. The space is dark, but scattered lights move in every direction, illuminating faces lifted in praise. Hands reach upward, hearts pouring out.
I stand there, probably looking foolish, but I don’t care. I’m captivated.
The music quiets, and Dillon says a prayer. Once he finishes, the lights gradually brighten, and the congregation begins to take their seats.
I spot Lily in the front row, and our eyes meet just as she’s about to take her seat.
I raise a hand in an awkward wave and mouth, “Hi.”
Her eyes widen, and she elbows the man next to her, whispering something quickly.
He rubs his arm, turning toward me.
It’s Nik.
His eyes mirror Lily’s, and his mouth parts slightly, as if shock freezes him momentarily.
A gentle hand rests on my shoulder. “Can I help you find a seat?”
I turn to see another woman wearing a lanyard, her smile warm and welcoming.
I scan the room and spot an open seat just a few feet away. “I’ll sit here,” I say quickly, heading toward it, choosing the spot next to a kind-looking elderly lady.
When I settle in, she extends her hand. “Mabel,” she greets in a soft whisper.
I take her hand and shake it lightly. “Eleanor,” I whisper back.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” she says, leaning in slightly. “I just wanted to welcome you.”
My chest swells with a gentle warmth. “Thank you,” I say, earnestly.
I scan the front row for Lily, and when I spot her, she and Nik are whispering intensely.
They keep exchanging hurried words, Nik seemingly trying to get her to stop. I realize they’re talking about me when Lily gestures in my direction. What could they possibly be saying?
But I can’t dwell on it. The service begins. Offerings are gathered, and the pastor steps onto the stage, bowing his head in prayer before preaching.
“Welcome everyone, I’m so glad you’re here,” the pastor begins. I try to focus on his words, but my eyes keep drifting to Lily and Nik, who continue their quiet back-and-forth until Nik says something that finally ends it.
“Today we will continue with our series, ‘Within the Soul,’” the pastor announces, and this time I give him my full attention. I won’t let anything distract me. Not Nik, not Lily, and certainly not the lingering tension between us.
“When you’ve had a rough day, what do you do for a pick-me-up?” he asks, pacing across the stage. “Do you grab a coffee, listen to music, or go for a walk? Or do you turn to prayer? Perhaps play your favorite worship song?”
He returns to the podium. “Our soul wouldn’t be a soul without the flesh—our body. And there are times when our soul feels heavy, weighed down by things we can’t explain. Hurts from the past, regrets, or even fear of the future.”
My heart clenches. Everything he says feels like it’s meant just for me. I know why I’ve been led here. It’s God wanting me to hear this.
“This is why we must remember God’s faithfulness in the past, cry out to Him in the present, and trust in His plan for our future.”
Tears threaten to fall. Every word resonates deeper than I could have imagined. They answer questions I don’t even know how to ask.
I fumble for a pen in my purse and start taking notes, trying to hold onto every insight.
When the service ends, the pastor prays over the congregation, asking the Holy Spirit to search our souls and reveal what’s weighing us down.
As he says amen, I open my eyes and realize a single tear has fallen down my cheek. The weight I’ve been carrying lifts completely from my shoulders.
Dillon takes the stage and plays one final song. The backboard reads Waiting by Healing Place Worship. As he sings, I lift my hands into the air, feeling freer than I have in my entire life—because I will, in fact, praise Him anyway.
His voice carries every word so beautifully that I can’t help but sing along, following the lyrics on the screen.
When the song ends, I don’t want to leave.
I want to live in this moment, to feel this way forever.
It’s like shaking up a soda bottle, but instead of exploding, the fizz spreads through my entire body, filling me with energy I don’t know I have.
It’s like climbing Mount Everest with no training, yet standing at the summit anyway. It feels like dancing in the rain.
As everyone starts filing out, I realize I’m awkwardly in the way, though no one seems to mind. When a gap appears in the crowd, I slip into the lobby.
The room quickly fills with people talking, laughing, and sharing in the warmth of the service. I hesitate, unsure if I should wait for Lily.
But thankfully, I don’t have to.
Arms wrap around me from behind in a fierce hug. “I’m so happy you’re here!” Lily squeals into my ear.
When she lets me go, I turn to give her a proper hug. “Me too,” I say softly.
“How did you like it?” she asks, bouncing on her toes, her eyes sparkling.
A smile spreads wide across my face. “I loved it,” I beam.
She takes both of my hands in hers. “You have no idea how happy I am for you,” she whispers.
“Lily—” a voice calls out. “Oh—there you are.” Evelyn weaves through the crowd, a surprised smile lighting her face. “Eleanor! How wonderful to see you, honey.” She leans in for a warm hug.
I hug her back. “I’m happy to be here.”
Gabriel walks through the doors, Dillon and Nik not far behind. “Eleanor,” Gabriel greets, coming toward me with open arms. “I can’t believe you’re here right now.” He laughs.
His laugh is contagious. “Me neither.”
Dillon offers a hug next. “It’s good to see you, Eleanor,” he says, his smile genuine.
“You too,” I reply, adding, “I had no idea you could sing like that.” I point toward the room, the one I’ve learned is called a sanctuary. “I swear I had chills the entire time.”
A faint blush rises on Dillon’s cheeks. “Ah, that wasn’t me, that was the Holy Spirit, but thank you.”
My eyes drift to Nik. He stands back, hesitant, cautious, but not angry. I force a slow breath in, knowing I’ll have to be the one to close the distance.
The group starts chatting among themselves, but Nik and I stay locked in a quiet stare. I take a slow step toward him, testing the waters. He tenses slightly but doesn’t move. When I finally stand in front of him, the urge to throw my arms around him is almost irresistible, but I hold back.
“Hi,” I manage, looking up at him.
A small smirk tugs at his lips. “Hi,” he says, uncrossing his arms and sliding his hands into his coat pockets.
I take an anchoring breath, gathering every ounce of courage I have. “Ca—can I talk to you?” I fumble slightly. “Alone?”