This is a little story I wrote based around a verse I find really challenging. I hope you enjoy it.
The alarm woke me up at six thirty, the same as it did every morning. I rubbed my eyes stretched my arms and pulled my self out of bed, staggering into the bathroom. I turned the shower on, while I studied my face in the mirror, picking of the little bits of sleep from the corners of my eyes. Today was going to be another busy day at the office.
Stepping into the shower, I mentally ran through my to do list; it would be hard, but I knew that I could do it. Three years at university had paid off. I was making my way up the ladder, and I was doing it on my own, well more or less anyway. Nobody could afford a flat like this, certainly not in this area, so my parents did help me out a little bit. But no one could expect me to share!
I picked up a tube of lotion and began the process of getting ready for work. It took a little while, I guess I was pretty enough without make-up, but I had to be the most beautiful girl in the office, so my credit card paid for lots of little treats to help me on my way.
I looked at the clock as I applied the finishing touches, no time to make breakfast, I would have to buy something on the way in again.
The commute was a nightmare, it always was, but I managed to make it into the office ten minutes early. The receptionist smiled and welcomed me in, I could never remember her name, she looked a bit cheap, and her highlights really needed looking at.
When I got to my desk the cleaner was already there, I could see her big behind sticking out from under the desk as she was picking some stuff up from the floor, Sometimes I would miss the bin on purpose, just to give her something to do. I don’t know how she could put up with just being a cleaner, didn’t she want to make something of her life? I sighed, signalling my frustration.
“Oh sorry, I’ll just be a second.” She bent down to pick up something she had obviously forgotten the first time round. She didn’t seem to understand that I had real work to do.
Once she was gone, I signed onto the computer and logged onto my favourite shopping website. I frantically added clothes, shoes and make-up to my wish list until my first meeting of the day, with a new client.
I stopped in the bathroom on the way, just to check my make-up was all still in place. Appearances were important. I was busy re-applying my make when I realised I wasn’t on my own. Someone was obviously crying in one of the cubicles. I rolled my eyes in the mirror, seriously, did they have no standards? I turned my attention back to my lipstick. The crying seemed to finally subside, thank heavens! Then the new girl walked out, her eyes were all puffy and her face was damp with tears.
“C-Camilla, isn’t it?” She asked.
She looked as if she wanted to ask me something. I really did not nave time to be dealing with other people’s problems today. I snapped my make-up bag shut ignoring her.
“Camilla…” She repeated.
“I have to go to meeting,” I said as I walked out of the bathroom.
As I turned round the corner in the corridor I noticed a new poster on the wall. We had loads of motivational posters about the place, but this one was different. On it was a cross, underneath the words said. “Whatever you did not do for the least of these, you did not do for me.”
“And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’ (Matthew 25:45)