Through The Broken Mirror: Evelyn’s Story
Chapter 1 : The Turmoil Within
The rain poured relentlessly against the stained glass windows of St. Alaric’s Chapel, where Evelyn sat alone in the flickering glow of a hundred candles. The weight in her chest felt as heavy as the storm clouds pressing low over the city. She’d come here seeking refuge—not from the rain, but from the turmoil within.
Evelyn had spent years chasing definitions of herself. Was she the sum of her career successes, the relationships she’d fumbled, or the expectations others had placed on her? The questions felt like a labyrinth she’d wandered for far too long, each turn leading only to another dead end.
Her fingers grazed the edge of an old leather-bound Bible she’d found left open on the pew. The words seemed to beckon her: “In the beginning, God created man in His own image…”
Evelyn leaned back, closing her eyes. She thought of Socrates’ timeless challenge, “Man, know thyself.” It was a mantra she had embraced, dissecting her identity through self-help books, therapy sessions, and endless soul-searching. Yet, instead of clarity, she’d found a gaping void, a hollow she couldn’t fill.
The voice startled her—a rich, gentle tone. “It’s impossible to see yourself clearly through a broken mirror.”
Evelyn turned to see an older woman, her hair silver but her eyes bright with youth. She held a candle, its light steady despite the draft in the chapel.
“What do you mean?” Evelyn asked, unsure why she even bothered.
The woman smiled and gestured to the window where the rain streaked like tears. “You’ve been looking at yourself through distorted reflections—guilt, shame, fear, others’ opinions. But no mirror of this world can show you the truth.”
“And what mirror can?” Evelyn whispered.
The woman sat beside her, opening the Bible. “The only mirror unbroken by time is found in the One who made you. Paul speaks of it in Romans: the potter and the clay. How can the clay understand its purpose without first knowing the potter’s intent?”
Evelyn frowned, skepticism rising. “So, you’re saying I need… religion to find myself?”
“Not religion,” the woman corrected gently. “Relationship. Think of Genesis—‘Let us make man in our image.’ You’re a reflection of the divine, but you’ve been looking at yourself without His light.” She pointed to the verse in James: “The word of God is a mirror.”
Evelyn hesitated, the familiar pang of doubt surfacing. “What if I don’t like what I see?”
“Ah, but that’s the beauty of it,” the woman replied. “This mirror doesn’t just reveal; it restores. The more you look, the more you become what you were always meant to be—whole, complete, unbroken.”
The words sank into Evelyn’s heart like seeds finding fertile ground. She opened the Bible, her eyes falling on 2 Corinthians 3:18: “We all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory…”
As she read, something within her shifted. It wasn’t an immediate answer or an epiphany, but a quiet knowing—a beginning.
“Welcome home,” the woman said, standing to leave.
Evelyn looked up, confused. “What?”
The woman smiled, her candle casting soft light over Evelyn’s face. “Your soul knows it. The journey home starts here, in the light of the mirror that never lies.”
As the woman walked away, Evelyn remained seated, the rain outside slowing to a gentle patter. She ran her fingers over the open pages, her reflection faintly visible in the window’s glass. For the first time, she didn’t flinch at her own image.
Instead, she whispered, “Show me who I am.”
And in the stillness, she began to see.
Chapter 2: Wonderfully Made
The rain eased to a drizzle, the sound now a soft rhythm against the stained glass. Evelyn remained on the pew, her fingers brushing the delicate, timeworn pages of the Bible. Each word seemed to shimmer with a meaning she couldn’t yet fully grasp but felt drawn toward, like an ancient melody she had always known but forgotten.
She thought about the woman who had spoken to her—how her presence felt like warmth on a cold winter’s day. The air where she’d stood still seemed to hum, as though she had left behind more than her words.
Evelyn flipped through the Bible, her eyes landing on a passage in Psalm 139: “For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
A lump rose in her throat. Wonderfully made? It was a notion she had long rejected. She had spent years feeling like a mistake, a patchwork of inadequacies stitched together by failed efforts and unresolved wounds. She had looked for affirmation in her career as a graphic designer, in fleeting relationships, even in the validation of social media—but none of it had filled the chasm within.
A flicker of doubt crossed her mind. How could ancient words apply to me? Yet another voice inside whispered, What if they were written for you all along?
Chapter 3: The Encounter
Hours passed. The chapel grew quieter, the candles burning lower. Evelyn hadn’t noticed the passage of time until the creak of the heavy oak doors broke her reverie. She turned to see a man step inside, shaking the rain from his coat.
“Sorry,” he said, spotting her. “Didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“It’s okay,” Evelyn replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She was surprised at how vulnerable she felt, sitting there with the Bible open, as if her searching heart were on display.
The man walked forward hesitantly, carrying a satchel that seemed almost as weathered as the chapel itself. “Mind if I sit?”
Evelyn nodded, motioning to the opposite end of the pew. He settled in, pulling out a sketchpad.
“You draw?” she asked, curiosity piqued.
“Sometimes,” he replied. “Mostly I sketch people. Faces are like mirrors, you know? They reflect stories.”
Evelyn tilted her head, intrigued. “What do you mean?”
The man smiled faintly, flipping open his sketchpad to reveal a series of portraits. Each one was intricate, alive with detail—not just of physical features but the emotions etched into them. Sadness, joy, weariness, hope.
“Every face tells a story,” he said. “But most people don’t know how to see their own. They spend so much time seeing themselves through others’ eyes—parents, friends, society. They forget their real reflection.”
His words mirrored the old woman’s, and Evelyn felt a chill run through her.
“Do you believe,” she ventured, “that there’s a truer reflection? One beyond what we think or feel about ourselves?”
The man looked at her thoughtfully, then nodded. “Absolutely. But it’s not something we find on our own.”
Evelyn hesitated. “Have you… ever felt lost? Like you didn’t know who you were?”
He chuckled softly, a rueful smile playing on his lips. “Many times. But then I realized—how can I understand a masterpiece without first knowing the artist? That’s what changed everything for me.”
She frowned, her heart skipping. “The artist?”
He gestured toward the Bible in her lap. “The One who made you. You’re His work of art.”
Chapter 4: The Reflection
After the man left, Evelyn remained in the chapel, her thoughts swirling. Her fingers trembled as she turned to another passage, 2 Corinthians 4:6: “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ.”
The light of the candles around her seemed to glow brighter, their flames steady and unwavering. Evelyn thought of her own reflection—how she had always avoided mirrors, afraid of what she might see. But tonight, she felt an invitation, as though the very fabric of her soul was being called forward.
Slowly, she rose and walked toward the baptismal font, where a pool of water shimmered in the candlelight. She leaned over, her reflection rippling on the surface.
For a moment, she saw herself as she always had—tired eyes, faint worry lines, a face worn by doubt and disappointment. But then the words from the Bible resonated in her mind: “We all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory…”
She closed her eyes, whispering the simplest prayer she’d ever spoken. “Show me who I am.”
When she opened them, the reflection had changed—not in its physical form, but in the way it looked back at her. There was a warmth, a light in her eyes she hadn’t seen before. For the first time, she felt she was gazing into the person she was meant to be—not perfect, but whole, redeemed, and loved.
Chapter 5: The Journey Home
Evelyn left the chapel that night with the Bible tucked under her arm. The rain had stopped, and the air smelled clean, renewed. She walked slowly through the city streets, her heart lighter than it had been in years.
The questions that had once tormented her hadn’t disappeared, but their weight had diminished. She no longer felt the need to solve herself like a puzzle or measure her worth by external standards.
For the first time, Evelyn understood that the journey to knowing herself wasn’t about striving—it was about surrendering to the One who had known her all along.
As she turned the corner toward her apartment, she glanced up at the night sky. The clouds had parted, revealing a tapestry of stars. She smiled, the words from earlier echoing in her heart:
Welcome home.
The stars guided Evelyn home that night, their quiet brilliance a stark contrast to the storm earlier. As she stepped into her apartment, a sense of stillness greeted her, as though the space itself had been waiting for her return.
She placed the Bible gently on the small table near her couch and stood for a moment, staring at it. For years, she had seen faith as a relic of her childhood—a naive simplicity that had no place in her adult world of deadlines and complexities. Yet, tonight, it felt as if she’d found a thread of something eternal woven into the fabric of her existence.
Chapter 6: The Dreams
That night, Evelyn dreamed.
She found herself in a vast, empty gallery, its walls stretching endlessly in both directions. The space was dimly lit, and the only sound was the faint echo of her footsteps on the polished floor.
As she walked, she noticed mirrors hanging on the walls. Each was unique—some ornate with gilded frames, others cracked and weathered. Curiosity drew her closer to one mirror, where her reflection stared back at her, distorted and fragmented. It reminded her of moments when she’d felt broken, inadequate, or unseen.
“Don’t linger there,” came a voice behind her.
Evelyn turned to see the woman from the chapel, now dressed in flowing white, her eyes warm with the same light as before.
“These mirrors,” the woman explained, gesturing to the walls, “are the ones you’ve been using to see yourself. They hold the judgments, wounds, and lies you’ve believed over the years.”
Evelyn swallowed hard. “Why would I keep looking at them?”
“Because they’re familiar,” the woman replied, her voice tinged with compassion. “But familiarity isn’t truth.”
She took Evelyn’s hand and led her further down the gallery. The mirrors changed, their surfaces becoming clearer, brighter, until they reached one that radiated a gentle glow.
“This,” the woman said, pointing to the mirror, “is the only one that matters.”
Evelyn hesitated, then stepped closer. As she gazed into the mirror, the light intensified, wrapping around her like a warm embrace. Her reflection appeared—but it wasn’t just her. She saw herself surrounded by light, whole and radiant, her eyes filled with peace she had never known.
Tears welled up as she whispered, “Is that… really me?”
“It’s how your Creator sees you,” the woman replied. “Not through the cracks of your mistakes or the shadows of others’ opinions, but through the perfection of His love.”
Chapter 7: The Awakening
Evelyn woke with a start, her cheeks damp with tears. The dream lingered in her mind, vivid and raw. She reached for the Bible on her table, flipping through its pages as though searching for confirmation of what she’d seen.
Her fingers landed on 1 Peter 2:9: “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession…” The words resonated deep within her, filling her with an unfamiliar but welcome sense of worth.
For the first time in years, Evelyn knelt beside her bed, whispering a prayer of gratitude and longing: “Lord, show me how to live like the person You see.”
The following morning, Evelyn walked into work with a new sense of purpose. The office was as chaotic as ever—clients demanding last-minute changes, coworkers bustling with their own stresses—but Evelyn felt oddly at peace.
Her colleague and friend, Mia, noticed immediately. “You look… different,” Mia said, narrowing her eyes as they sat down for lunch. “What happened? Did you win the lottery or something?”
Evelyn chuckled. “Not quite. But something did change.”
Mia raised an eyebrow. “Okay, spill.”
For a moment, Evelyn hesitated. She wasn’t sure how to explain what had happened without sounding like she’d lost her mind. But then she remembered the dream, the light, the reflection of who she was meant to be.
“I went to St. Alaric’s last night,” Evelyn began cautiously. “And… I think I found something I didn’t even realize I was searching for.”
Mia listened intently as Evelyn described her encounter with the woman, the man, and the dream. When she finished, Mia leaned back, a thoughtful look on her face.
“Wow,” Mia said finally. “That’s… heavy. But also kind of amazing. So, what now?”
Evelyn smiled, her heart steady. “I think I’m done trying to figure everything out on my own. I’m going to take it one step at a time—and trust that I’m not walking alone anymore.”
Chapter 8: Ripples of Change
Over the weeks that followed, Evelyn found herself returning to St. Alaric’s often. Sometimes she went to sit in the quiet, letting the stillness settle her restless thoughts. Other times, she found herself drawn to passages in the Bible, each one speaking to her heart in ways she couldn’t explain.
She began to notice changes—not just in herself, but in how she interacted with others. She was more patient with her coworkers, more understanding with her family, and less harsh with herself.
The transformation wasn’t dramatic, but it was steady, like a river carving its path over time. And as Evelyn continued to look into the mirror of God’s word, she began to see herself more clearly—not as the flawed, uncertain person she had once believed herself to be, but as someone deeply loved, fearfully and wonderfully made.
The Invitation
One evening, as Evelyn sat by her window watching the sunset, she felt a quiet nudge in her spirit. The words from her dream echoed again: “Don’t linger there.”
She thought about the people in her life—Mia, her family, her coworkers—and realized how many of them were still trapped, staring into their own distorted mirrors.
With a deep breath, Evelyn opened her laptop and began to write. She wasn’t sure where the words would lead, but she knew she had to share her story.
“Sometimes,” she wrote, “we forget who we are because we’ve been looking in the wrong mirror. But there’s a reflection waiting for each of us—a reflection of who we were always meant to be. All we have to do is step into the light.”
As she typed, a sense of purpose filled her heart. Evelyn didn’t know where the journey would lead, but for the first time, she wasn’t afraid.
She had found the mirror of eternity, and it was enough.
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