Cracked Roots & Roses 30: Speechless

This was unreal. Everything seemed to be falling into place. I went back in and waited for the test to start. The test was a piece of cake; I finished before anyone else and went home to wait for something that wasn’t supposed to happen. Deep down, I knew I would be starting school Monday. Even though I had no money, I didn’t know how, but I just KNEW it.

Two days later, on Thursday, I got a call from Kelly around noon. I answered the phone, thinking maybe I forgot to sign something or she needed more information, but she didn’t. She asked if I was sitting down. I said, “I am now.”

She said, “I faxed your information to the Chicago office, and the person who would submit your application and make the determination was standing at the fax machine. She took it right then, worked on it, and because you’ve never applied for any grants, you’ve been approved!”

I was speechless—and as you guys can see, that is not easy. She said, “The state will fund your nail education 100% and reimburse you for any supplies. That means whatever you purchase pertaining to school will be covered. You bring us the receipts each Friday, and we’ll cut you a check by the following Wednesday.”

All I could repeat was, “Oh my God,” and, “Thank you.” She said, “Come by tomorrow after 1, and I’ll have your bank draft ready for you to take to Brent.” When I got off the phone, I slid off the couch onto my knees and cried. I thanked God. I felt so unworthy. After all I had done with my life, He didn’t hold it against me. There was a plan for me, and He didn’t call it back because of my sin and stupidity.

The next day, I went and got the bank draft from Kelly. She said, “I guess it was meant for you to do go to nail school. I’ve never seen the state fund anything in beauty 100%.” I can still remember the $7,000 draft stapled to a letter, sitting on the passenger seat of my car. I had never held that amount of money at one time.

I completed all the paperwork for school that morning and came back for orientation that evening. I started school that following Monday. I was the oldest one there at 30—wasn’t expecting that. The girls were anywhere from 17 to 21 and right out of high school. They were fine; in the end, I would’ve trained several and led a few to Jesus.

I was expecting nail school to be like an art class—you know, painting all day and talking about nail designs. It was nothing like that. We learned about diseases of the skin, chemicals, and sanitation. After a month in theory, we moved to the floor to watch a manicure and pedicure in process. I didn’t take any notes because, for me, it was common sense: soak the feet to clean them, clip, shape, and file the nails, work on the heels, exfoliate, then hydrate.

After watching one pedicure, I volunteered to do the next one, to my instructor’s surprise. I did it faster and better than the instructor. She went and got another instructor and had me do it again, so I did. The next day, I was on the clinic floor with the seniors, taking walk-ins and getting tips.

It never dawned on me that nail technology came naturally because I was an artist and paid attention to detail. The thing is, I never liked art on nails—I just loved to see a clean, neat polish job. God knew this about me, and I didn’t even know. How cool is that?

I was in school for about two months before I decided I had made a mistake. Y’all bear with me… lol. Y’all know I can’t let anything be too easy… lol. I suddenly started to doubt EVERYTHING! I had literally just seen the hand of God and forgot it that quick.

One day, I got a call from another title company who saw my resume online and wanted me to come in for an interview. I went to school late and did the interview. I didn’t love the position, but the pay was the most I had ever been offered in my life. Two days later, they offered me the job. I couldn’t believe it—I didn’t even ace the interview.

Now, I had a decision: take the job and quit school, or turn the job down and continue headlong into the unknown. Around the same time, Kevin was calling again but inconsistently. I told him I was in nail school and explained how it all happened. He listened and said, “Congratulations,” then added, “Being a nail tech isn’t sustainable. You need a real job.”

I was torn. Here I had a chance to get a “real” job and possibly reconnect with Kevin, so I decided I would take the job and quit school.

I went to school knowing it would be my last day. I cleaned my locker out and planned to call Brent the next day to tell him it wasn’t for me. It was almost 4 p.m., so I started cleaning my manicure station for the last time. I went to my locker to grab my stuff, and just as I was about to leave, Kristie, one of the instructors, stood in the doorway.

She said, “Kim, oh good, I’m glad you’re still here. We just had a walk-in, and I have nobody to do her service.” The seniors were gone, and my class was still on manicuring. I said, “I’m sorry, Kristie. I have to go. Have her come back tomorrow.” Kristie pleaded with me, “Please, just do a quick pedicure for me.”

I sighed and said, “Okay.” I set up at a station in the corner. The woman was very cheery. She was a middle-aged, tall white woman with strawberry blonde hair pulled back and piercing blue eyes.

When I came from the back to set up, she smiled and said, “Ah, just who I’m looking for,” as if she knew me. I shrugged it off—she probably thought I was someone else.

I had her sit in the chair and pick polish while I got started. My plan was to rush through this pedicure and get her out so I could go home and tell Kevin and the title company I’d accept the job. I didn’t talk to her at all because I didn’t even want to do the pedicure.

She said, “I’m in town for a church conference and visiting my sister. I work with Paul Wilbur. Have you heard of him?”

I said, “I have. He does worship at my church sometimes.”

She had that same big smile and nodded, “Yes,” like she knew. She said, “I was driving down this street, and God told me to come in here to get a pedicure. I don’t get them, but when He tells me to do something, I do it.”

I got that feeling again, like I was about to be told something I didn’t want to hear. Determined to ignore it, I kept my head down and worked faster to get her done.

I started the massage, and just as I moved to the next leg, she leaned over to get close to my face and said, “Look at me.”

I looked up for the first time because I had been avoiding eye contact with her. I felt like I was hiding or doing something wrong by wanting to quit school.

I stopped working and looked into those piercing blue eyes. She said, “God anointed your hands to touch people. You will lead many to Christ, and many will be healed through you as you do this job. You cannot quit school.”

When I nodded yes and didn’t say anything, she leaned back, and I finished the massage speechless with tears rolling down my face.