Who You Say I Am (A Jai Courtney Fanfic)

Chapter 93-Meg

Jon Reddick—'God, Turn It Around'

Meg

I rise early and get ready for church.  I put on a little makeup to make my face more presentable since I don't look or feel my best. I make myself a quick breakfast of some scrambled eggs, a warmed muffin, and some blueberries.  I put on my dress coat and grab my keys, bags, and guitar before heading out to church. 
I unlock the door when I arrive and flip on the lights as I walk to the sanctuary.  I set my guitar and bags down on the way, taking my coat off. I'm grateful to see the keyboard moved aside.  I enter the kitchen and make the coffee practicing scales to warm up my voice.  It's a little raw and different than usual.  It actually sounds like I've been sick.  But oddly, my voice doesn't sound too bad.  After all the kitchen prep is done, I grab a bottle of water.  Most everyone in the worship team is early and I give them the music I printed.  I tune my guitar and we practice. I feel like this is the most emotion I've ever put into a worship set. We pray and take a break before the service starts. I can't keep one of the songs out of my head, as if it's a prayer I'm continually asking God for. Several people come up and talk to me. I get asked about Jai by some. I just smile and say he flew home—I honestly feel like I'm still in shock that he's actually gone. I notice the time and excuse myself as I take the stage. I get ready and pray in agreement with Pastor Gill.
I start singing and put my all into it. I hear the church sound more like south in response to the music and realize they're all as moved as I am. We continue the set and I feel the presence of God so strongly that I mention it and pray aloud during the set. I ask for us to be willing to follow God's will for our lives, to give us the strength to endure what he has for us. Even if it's not what we want, for his will to be done in all things.
I take my seat afterward as Pastor Gill preaches. I feel like his message is exactly what I needed to hear. He speaks about hardships we endure as Christians and how the world may not understand but Jesus has overcome the world. We need to put our trust in him. His way may seem difficult and not what we want but it's always the best for us. Trials produce perseverance. He uses so much scripture to back up his sermon and I feel like I spend most of my time writing.
At the end of service, I go up for the altar call. I'm prayed over and anointed. I feel God's hand so heavily on me and that he's pleased with me. I feel him comfort me and I know he's always been right beside me through my trials.
I clean up the kitchen and I'm the last out of the church. I carry my guitar and bag out. I lock up and reach for my car keys in my pocket. I feel a paper in there and I pull it out remembering the gallery flyer for submissions. I feel like this is something God wants me to do. So, I go home and ready my work. It's already mostly done since that was part of my class to prepare for gallery submissions. 
I go on Monday to pickup my artwork from the gallery at school and see a notice posted that they need assistance a couple evenings a week in the photography lab. I decide to volunteer as a lab assistant since I've done it before and it gives me access to some supplies and the darkrooms. I drop my artwork off at home before going to the Y.
As I step in, I see Rachel working the desk again. She lets me know that they need someone to teach classes part time. Someone new must've quit.  I fill out the application and I go to exercise. I do my routine in a daze, trying not to think about him. I shower and duck out quickly.
As I'm at home, I print out the online submission form for the Chicago gallery and submit it with my entry fee, dipping into my minuscule savings to do so. I get an idea for another series, writing it down as potential additions. I also put in slides of all of my artwork in school, including my drawings and sculptures. I stop at the post office and pay to overnight the packet to Chicago. Afterwards, I make a trip to a local photography supply store and purchase several rolls of infrared film along with black and white film, black and white photography paper, black and white chemicals for film and print processing, and some cyanotype emulsion. I stop at the craft store and buy a few brushes and some nice drawing paper. I spend my time exploring downtown with my mace in my pocket and taking pictures using the infrared film.
The next day, I watch over the lab at school. When my hours are up, I use the empty studio at night and put down the white backdrop. I set up my camera and tripod. I prep the lighting and I sit on a stool in front of the camera. I try to take pictures of myself, setting the automatic timer. I find myself just thinking of Jai. I cry and try to stop myself. I wipe my tears but it all just comes out. I figure that this will just have to be a raw sort of series—one with real emotion and authentic pain. I finally get one that I was thinking of and I sigh in relief. I turn off the timer to hear the film winding. I guess I filled the roll. I sigh again and pray that they came out alright. I'm suddenly understanding the term starving artist... since I've just about emptied my savings and I'm so grateful that I have my parents to help me out with everything else. If I was still in my apartment, I'd have to eat dry ramen or something for a week or two.
I process the infrared roll of the city buildings by hand in the dark and then the plain black and white roll of my headshots in the light after getting the film into the canister for development. I pull out the rolls of processed film and I'm completely surprised at how good they turned out. I hang them to dry and I honestly can't wait until they're done so I can get a closer look with a loupe. I wait while they dry and I check my email. I see a response from Wendy—the director at the Y. She says that I'm hired and she's glad I'm back. I'll work Monday and Wednesday mornings teaching a high impact aerobic class and Tuesday and Thursday mornings teaching a low impact one. She also asks if I'll teach a ballet class. I respond and thank her for the repeated opportunity, agreeing to everything. I tell her I look forward to coming in tomorrow.
I smile at how I officially have another job. It may be lesser than my previous one but I'm so grateful to have it.