Most weeks, on her way to Wesley CityHeart community gathering, Cecile would see the same man. He always greeted her with a gentle smile.
Each time they met, he said he was off to buy a plane ticket – planning to go home next month to see his family. But the months passed, and he remained. Cecile came to understand that he wasn’t preparing to leave. Rather, he was holding onto hope.
He hadn’t seen his family in years. He hadn’t had a photo taken in a long time. When he spoke of his children, his voice trembled. There was sorrow, yes – but also love. He had lost contact with them, and the ache of that loss ran deep.
One day, Cecile offered to paint his portrait. He declined, gently. But later, he returned warmer, more open. This time, he said yes.
When Cecile handed him the finished portrait, he stared at it in silence. Then tears welled in his eyes.
“Is this really what I look like now?” he asked. After a pause, he added, “Could you take a photo of the painting for me and send it to my children and my family? I want them to see what I look like now. I want them to know that I still think of them.”
That painting became more than an image. It became a message. A bridge. A quiet act of love that sparked joy.
Cecile believes that art is not meant to glorify the artist, but to express love, connect hearts and serve as a vessel in God’s hands.
To her, this is the kind of love Jesus teaches – not loud or grand, but honest and present. The kind that stops, sees, listens and walks alongside.
And if that portrait ever reaches his family – if it helps rebuild what was lost – that would be the greatest joy of all.
