A modern redemptive story inspired by "Road to Emmaus" in Luke 24
Well, that definitely did not go the way they wanted.
A very, very disappointing morning.
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This was not what they planned... -- Image by ChatGPT.
They looked at each other with tears in their eyes. Everything they had worked for was gone.
Mara just stood there, outside of the building where their lifelong dream came to an end, in total disbelief. Her long, slightly curly red hair reflected the sun's warmth, yet it felt cold to her.
Her partner, Alice, was literally trembling at the outcome and the 'what happens now' thoughts racing through her mind.
Together, Mara and Alice founded the Sage Arts Center. A nonprofit center to educate disadvantaged kids in the world of art, from painting, clay work, woodworking, music, and even creative writing. They totally love their students and stay in contact with the graduates.
The Center does all of this for free. All they ask for is a donation to help keep the lights on.
Carl was their accountant, office manager, donation tracker, reluctant janitor, and emergency lightbulb replacer. He spends most of his time raising donations for the Arts Center.
The three of them had been working overtime to get a much-needed grant to give them some breathing room and continue providing for their students.
This morning was their final appeal to get the grant. They were turned down again.
Mara took out her phone and called Carl with the sad news.
Carl, a lifelong optimist, replied to Mara, "We have a few more weeks before the money runs out. Let's not give up yet."
Alice just stood there. Her face had lost all expression as she stared at the ground.
Mara put her hand on Alice's shoulder, "I have an idea. Something positive to give us a break from all of this."
Alice, with her empty look, replied, "What?"
"There is an art show just the other side of the railroad tracks. One of our favorite students had an oil painting on display. I have not seen his new work. Let's check it out."
Alice immediately knew who it was, "Yes, let's take our mind off of this for a bit."
They started to walk in that direction when Mara remembered Carl's comment, "I forgot to tell you. Carl, the eternal optimist, said don't give up, we have a few more weeks. I can't see anything happening, but maybe keep a positive thought for now."
They walked across the courtyard, the railroad tracks, and past the open marketplace to the art show building. As they entered, they found someone who was working the show and asked for directions to their students' painting.
They walked through the show, stopping to look at other artists' paintings. As they came up to the painting they wanted to see, an older man was there looking at the painting.
The elder man was dressed extremely casually, like a man who no longer cared about how he looked. He was standing quite close to the painting, looking at it as if it were under a microscope.
Alice could not stop herself and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked down at her as she quipped, "Art is best viewed from a distance, not close up." She chuckled a bit.
He backed up a couple of steps, looked back at the painting, then back to Alice. His hard-nosed, serious stare softened to a light, gentle smile, "Is this supposed to be a road, or did somebody spill paint and frame it?"
Alice laughed out loud, then covered her mouth, not wanting the noise to bother people. Mara got that look on her face, that mama bear protecting her cubs look.
Being a teacher herself, Alice took it upon herself to attempt to educate the old man. She talked about the painting, how it was a statement, from good descending into brokenness. She went into details of modern art.
The old man looked at Alice, his hardened eyes relaxed a bit, "Thank you for that wonderful explanation." He turned his look to Mara, "I feel like I may have offended you, but a mouse grabbed your tongue. It's OK, you have chewed on those words long enough, spit them out."
For the first time today, Mara smiled and laughed softly, "It has been a tough day. Being artists and teachers of art, your comment bothered me a bit."
"I get it." He continued, "I didn't quite understand this painting. But your friend did a very nice job of explaining it. Sorry for offending you."
"That's OK. I needed the laugh. By the way, I'm Mara."
"Nice to meet you, Mara. I'm Lance."
Alice, never one to be left out of a conversation, jumped in, "I'm Alice. Mara and I run a nonprofit art center."
Mara gave Alice the 'shut up' look, but, as usual, Alice ignored it. "We work with the disadvantaged children, teaching various types of art."
Lance looked to Alice, "You know, that sounds very interesting. I would like to know more. If you two are open to it, there is a very nice Café just a short walk from here. Can I buy lunch?"
Mara, always the practical one, thought it would be best to say no and move on. He didn't need to know of their troubles. But before she finished her thought, Alice, the bubbly type, got a big smile, "Yes, we would love to have lunch."
You could feel the wheels turning inside of Mara. Her thoughts went to: why in the H. E. double hockey sticks would she say yes to a stranger!
Mara gave Alice that very disapproving look, but didn't stop there. She punched Alice in the shoulder.
While that transpired, Lance said, "Great, just give me a couple of minutes, I need to use the facility."
With that, Lance left them. Mara looked Alice dead in the eyes. "Why did you say yes? He is a stranger. He doesn't need to know of our troubles."
Putting her hand on her stomach, Alice replied, "I'm hungry, and it is a free lunch."
Mara stood there for a moment, "You're right, he seems to be OK. Let's do it. I'm hungry too. Perhaps this will take our minds off things for a bit."
Meanwhile, Lance had found one of the gallery workers near the back of the room.
"I have to tell you something funny," he said. "I was standing there admiring the brushwork in that painting when those two ladies walked up beside me. One of them told me art is best viewed from a distance."
He shook his head, trying not to laugh again.
"I suppose she thought I was about to crawl inside the frame."
With that, Lance returned, "You guys ready? Let's take a short walk."
As they left the area heading to the front door, one of the workers there placed a 'Sold' sign on the "framed spilled paint" painting.
They got to the Café. The host seated them. Lance sensed some uneasiness and thought a change of conversation might help everyone relax a bit.
"Hey, would you two be Ok with a bit of history which would explain why I chose this Café?"
They both looked at Lance and nodded their heads in a yes movement.
"OK, this year is the 100th anniversary of Route 66. Often forgotten, as time moved on, the original route went through Santa Fe. We are on Cerrillos Road, which, from 1926 till about 1937, was part of the original Route 66.
"From the history notes, they re-aligned Route 66 in 1937 to go directly to Albuquerque and bypass Santa Fe. There are still bits and pieces of the original route. While it is not accessible anymore, there was a section of the road that snaked down a steep hill. A true white-knuckle ride."
Mara asked curiously, "Why can't you access it?"
"It is now on private land, and for safety reasons, they don't let anyone on it."
"Oh, OK."
There was a casual silence while everyone enjoyed lunch.
Lance restarted the conversation as they finished their meal, "Tell me more about your Art center, I'm curious about it, how it started, challenges, happy moments, et cetera."
Mara lit up, "This was a thought or desire of mine for a long time. One day, for whatever reason, I brought it up to Alice. She loved the concept and said let's do it. Alice is the 'Get it done' type, and I'm the thinker. We found the middle ground and got started.
"We found a good building that was in our budget. That was the first step. Alice reached out to the schools in the area to find art teachers who would be open to volunteering here. She explained to them that this was to help disadvantaged kids. To our surprise, we had an abundance of volunteers.
"With that, we opened up. Funding was strictly by donations. The parents donated what they could, but we never turned someone away if they could not help. The rest came from outside donors and grants.
"But we hit hard times, money became scarcer, and grants became more difficult to acquire. Today, we hit rock bottom…"
Alice interrupted, "Mara, he doesn't need to know that part."
Lance jumped in, "Alice, I understand your point, but can you just tell me what 'rock bottom' really means?"
Alice looked down towards the floor, "Monday, we start packing up and closing down."
Lance noticed the tears in Mara's eyes, "Oh my, I'm so sorry to hear that. Where is your school located?"
Alice replied, "Just down the road on the other side of town."
"Is it within walking distance?"
"Yeah, we thought this morning would be a great day to walk here. That didn't work out so well."
"I know you don't really know me, and you are closing down, but would it be Ok if I walked with you and could see what you accomplished?"
Mara finally recomposed herself. For a moment, his request brought back every practical warning she normally listened to. They had met this man less than two hours ago, and now he wanted to see the center.
Still, there was something about Lance that did not feel threatening. Odd, certainly. Blunt, without question. But not unsafe.
She looked directly at him. "I'm not sure why you would want to see our failure, but I have enjoyed your conversation. So, yes. You can visit."
Alice nodded her head in approval.
Lance paid the lunch tab as promised. They started the walk. About 45 minutes later, they arrived at Sage Arts Center. Lance was genuinely impressed by it and sad too.
He asked, "Tell me about your students?"
Mara talked about several students. Through their volunteers, they learned many different skills, from painting and music to design work. But one student stood out as one they were both really proud of.
Mara went on, "Gabriel was one of our best students; his paintings are getting great reviews, and their values are increasing. He was a joy to work with, and we stayed in close touch. That painting you were looking at, you know, the framed spilled-paint one, that was his."
Lance replied, "Alice gave me a new appreciation for it. You two have done great work here. Keep the wins in your mind. I need to get home. It was a great pleasure to meet both of you."
They both had big smiles on their faces. For a while, they had put aside their problem. Alice spoke up, "We enjoyed meeting you, too."
With that, Lance left.
Mara and Alice both felt it. Nothing had changed. The doors were still closing. The money was still gone. But somehow the walk back was different. For reasons neither of them could explain, they felt lighter. Even though the dream was ending, somehow they knew it would be OK.
The weekend was over, and they hung the closed sign on Monday morning. The next few days felt like they would never end, yet they flew by too.
Mid-week, Carl came running into the old building, grinning and bubbly, and yelled, "You are not going to believe this!"
Mara and Alice looked at each other, then back to Carl with that 'finish the news' look.
He continued, "I was getting ready to take down the website and close up the donation page when I saw it…"
Alice screamed, "What did you see!"
Carl paused. To them it seemed like an eternity, but it was just a second or two, "We had an anonymous donation this morning. It was huge! Enough to keep us going until next year."
Alice and Mara stared at Carl, stunned. They were frozen in time.
Then, Alice started gasping for air. Mara broke down and cried profusely. Carl gathered up some office chairs for them to sit on.
There, everyone sat in disbelief.
Mara looked over at Alice and started the thought they were thinking, "I wonder if…"
Alice interrupted, "Nah, there's no way. It couldn't be."
Somewhere, there was a really nice, well-maintained home. Inside, in the entryway, there was a new painting of a road, or perhaps some paint was splattered on it and framed.
Based on Luke 24:13-35
Two apostles were journeying towards Emmaus, sadden, believing that it has ended, when a stranger joined them. This journey inspired Framed Spilled Paint, which echoes that emotional ground by showing how loss can narrow vision until an unexpected encounter restores perspective. Both stories suggest that the most important help is not always recognized while it is happening.
Tap to read the actual bible passage:
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