The soft hum of early morning drifted through Jessica's window as the clock blinked 5:30 a.m. The world was quiet, the sky still cloaked in indigo.
She swung her legs off the bed, reached for her shawl, and knelt beside her prayer corner—her sacred space. A single candle flickered beside her open Bible. Worship music played gently in the background.
This was her rhythm.
Every day.
One hour with Jesus before she met the world.
Today, her heart was a little louder than usual. She had a big meeting scheduled. An unexpected sponsorship opportunity. And though she didn't know who arranged it, she had said yes—believing that God may be moving in it.
Her voice was low but firm as she prayed:
> "Father, I surrender this day to You. You've never failed me. If this is Your door, I'll walk through it. Give me discernment. Let me be bold but kind, confident yet humble. Use this meeting for Your purpose, not mine.
And Lord… help me recognize Your hand if it moves today."
Tears welled as she spoke, her voice faltering slightly.
> "You know I've waited. For Your plans. For Your timing. For provision. For… everything. I trust You. Whether today ends in a 'yes' or 'wait,' You are still good."
She ended with the Scripture that had carried her through the week:
> "Commit your plans to the Lord, and your thoughts will be established." — Proverbs 16:3
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At Elias Ventures, Michael wasn't expecting anything out of the ordinary. It was Tuesday—meeting day. A few sponsorship proposals, some presentations, follow-up reports. Just another stack of boxes to check.
He straightened the cuff of his navy shirt and glanced over the document in front of him:
Proposal: Jessica Maren — Hope & Hands Initiative
Simple. Clean. Professional.
He didn't expect much. The company got dozens of pitches every month. Most were good. Some were inspired. But rarely did they move anything inside him.
He sipped his black coffee and walked into the boardroom.
Tall, composed, and strikingly handsome, Michael carried a calm energy that made people instinctively respect him. His strong jawline, neatly trimmed beard, and expressive eyes gave him a quiet authority—yet there was a gentleness in his demeanor that only those who really knew him could see.
He greeted his team and took his seat as the screen flickered on.
And then—he saw her.
His breath caught.
It's her.
Jessica from church.
The girl he noticed just a couple of days ago.
The one whose face had lingered quietly in his memory.
She had been there—serving.
And now, she was here.
On the screen. In front of him. Speaking with boldness and grace.
Michael composed himself quickly and clicked the mic.
"Good morning, Miss Maren," he said, tone steady. "I'm Michael. Thank you for joining us today."
"Thank you," Jessica replied, her voice calm and focused. "It's an honor."
He kept his expression professional, but inside, something shifted.
Lord… what are You doing?
Jessica began her presentation, sharing her vision with clarity and heart:
> "Hope & Hands isn't just a business idea—it's a calling. I want to create opportunities for women who've been silenced or sidelined. To equip them with resources, skills, and dignity to step into who God created them to be. Business can be a ministry, not just a market."
She spoke with purpose—not polished performance. Her words were sincere, soaked in prayer and persistence.
Michael found himself leaning in—not as a businessman—but as a man whose heart had just been gently shaken.
When she finished, she said softly:
> "I've prayed over this meeting. And whether it leads somewhere or not, I know God sees me. And that's enough."
He exhaled slowly.
The boardroom was quiet for a moment too long. Then he spoke.
"Thank you, Miss Maren. Your vision is refreshing… and deeply grounded. We'll be in touch very soon."
Jessica nodded, smiling. "Thank you again."
As the call ended, Michael leaned back in his chair.
The others resumed normal discussion.
But he couldn't.
That girl from church… now in his boardroom… with that kind of heart?
He looked up quietly.
"God… You're writing something, aren't You?"
He didn't know what came next.
But he couldn't deny:
God was clearly in this meeting.
And maybe—just maybe—in something more.