It had been raining for eleven straight days.
Emma stood at the bay window of her little cottage, forehead leaning against the cool glass, watching the raindrops chase each other down the pane. Her hands rested on the windowsill, palms open — a habit she'd formed lately, a silent posture of surrender.
It had been three years since she opened the bakery. Three years of long hours, thin profits, and local fairs where she pressed samples into outstretched hands and smiled until her cheeks ached. She knew it would be hard. But she hadn't counted on it being so lonely — or so slow.
A delivery van rumbled past her empty driveway, its yellow lights glowing through the mist. Emma sighed. Another hopeful morning, another silent phone.
How much longer, Lord? I’m tired.
She whispered the prayer without much expectation, then turned back to the kitchen. The scent of cinnamon rolls, long since cooled on their trays, filled the air. She wrapped a batch carefully, tying each package with twine, her motions precise, almost prayerful.
Patience. It was everywhere in Scripture — she'd read the verses a dozen times. "Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage," Psalm 27 promised. But what did waiting look like when every passing day chipped away at her dreams?
The clock chimed noon.
Just as she was reaching for her coat, a sharp knock sounded at the door. Emma blinked, a little startled. Visitors were rare, especially on days like this. She wiped her hands on her apron and opened the door.
On the steps stood a woman about Emma's age, clutching a dripping umbrella. Her face was flushed from the cold, and her eyes sparked with suppressed emotion. She held out a slightly crumpled flyer — one of Emma's, Emma noticed with a pang.
"I hope it’s not too forward," the woman said, voice trembling. "I... I saw your ad. Fresh bread, no preservatives. My son — he’s allergic to everything. We've had such a hard time finding anything safe. I know you're probably busy, but... could you make something small? Even just one loaf?"
For a moment, Emma just stared, the weight of discouragement lifting so suddenly she almost staggered.
"Of course," she breathed. "Of course I can."
The woman’s eyes filled with tears. "Thank you," she whispered.
Emma invited her in, and they talked — about recipes and allergies, about the relentless loneliness that sometimes gripped you even in a crowded town. Listening, Emma realized something gentle and extraordinary: her waiting hadn’t been wasted. Every slow, unseen moment was preparing her, building a love wide enough for strangers and strong enough to feed the hungry heart.
By the time the woman left, cradling a warm, carefully wrapped loaf, the rain had softened to a slow, golden drizzle. Out over the fields, the sun broke through, scattering light like a thousand tiny miracles.
Emma stood on the steps, twine still wrapped around her wrist.
She wasn’t alone. She never had been.
God had been kneading hope inside her, patiently, all along.
Smiling through tears, Emma whispered another prayer — this time not pleading, but full of gratitude.
Thank You for waiting with me.
Thank You for never letting go.
—
Bible Verses:
James 5:7-8 (NIV) — "Be patient, then, brothers and sisters, until the Lord’s coming. See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop, patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains. You too, be patient and stand firm, because the Lord’s coming is near."
Galatians 6:9 (NIV) — "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."
Romans 12:12 (NIV) — "Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer."
Psalm 27:14 (NIV) — "Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord."
Isaiah 40:31 (NIV) — "But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."
It had been raining for eleven straight days.
Emma stood at the bay window of her little cottage, forehead leaning against the cool glass, watching the raindrops chase each other down the pane. Her hands rested on the windowsill, palms open — a habit she'd formed lately, a silent posture of surrender.
It had been three years since she opened the bakery. Three years of long hours, thin profits, and local fairs where she pressed samples into outstretched hands and smiled until her cheeks ached. She knew it would be hard. But she hadn't counted on it being so lonely — or so slow.
A delivery van rumbled past her empty driveway, its yellow lights glowing through the mist. Emma sighed. Another hopeful morning, another silent phone.
How much longer, Lord? I’m tired.
She whispered the prayer without much expectation, then turned back to the kitchen. The scent of cinnamon rolls, long since cooled on their trays, filled the air. She wrapped a batch carefully, tying each package with twine, her motions precise, almost prayerful.
Patience. It was everywhere in Scripture — she'd read the verses a dozen times. "Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage," Psalm 27 promised. But what did waiting look like when every passing day chipped away at her dreams?
The clock chimed noon.
Just as she was reaching for her coat, a sharp knock sounded at the door. Emma blinked, a little startled. Visitors were rare, especially on days like this. She wiped her hands on her apron and opened the door.
On the steps stood a woman about Emma's age, clutching a dripping umbrella. Her face was flushed from the cold, and her eyes sparked with suppressed emotion. She held out a slightly crumpled flyer — one of Emma's, Emma noticed with a pang.
"I hope it’s not too forward," the woman said, voice trembling. "I... I saw your ad. Fresh bread, no preservatives. My son — he’s allergic to everything. We've had such a hard time finding anything safe. I know you're probably busy, but... could you make something small? Even just one loaf?"
For a moment, Emma just stared, the weight of discouragement lifting so suddenly she almost staggered.
"Of course," she breathed. "Of course I can."
The woman’s eyes filled with tears. "Thank you," she whispered.
Emma invited her in, and they talked — about recipes and allergies, about the relentless loneliness that sometimes gripped you even in a crowded town. Listening, Emma realized something gentle and extraordinary: her waiting hadn’t been wasted. Every slow, unseen moment was preparing her, building a love wide enough for strangers and strong enough to feed the hungry heart.
By the time the woman left, cradling a warm, carefully wrapped loaf, the rain had softened to a slow, golden drizzle. Out over the fields, the sun broke through, scattering light like a thousand tiny miracles.
Emma stood on the steps, twine still wrapped around her wrist.
She wasn’t alone. She never had been.
God had been kneading hope inside her, patiently, all along.
Smiling through tears, Emma whispered another prayer — this time not pleading, but full of gratitude.
Thank You for waiting with me.
Thank You for never letting go.
—
Bible Verses:
James 5:7-8 (NIV) — "Be patient, then, brothers and sisters, until the Lord’s coming. See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop, patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains. You too, be patient and stand firm, because the Lord’s coming is near."
Galatians 6:9 (NIV) — "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."
Romans 12:12 (NIV) — "Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer."
Psalm 27:14 (NIV) — "Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord."
Isaiah 40:31 (NIV) — "But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint."
