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enemy. Even in the deepest pits of despair and failure, David was secure in who he was, or should I say who his God was. Listen to this.”
    Jim Ed stopped painting and reached into his cart. He fumbled around, pulling out an old, faded leather Bible, its pages tattered and edges rolled up. After opening it, he slowly flipped through the pages, stopped, and began to read.
“Lord, how they have increased who trouble me! Many are they who rise up against me. Many are they who say of me, ‘There is no help for him in God.’
In other words, ‘David, you’re so messed up even God’s abandoned you!’ But hear David’s response in that same passage.
‘But You O, Lord, are a shield for me, My glory and the One who lifts my head.’
His security wasn’t in anyone but God. Now that gets me excited! At times David had to stand his ground alone, but eventually the same people who doubted him, who even betrayed him, rallied around him.”
    Jim Ed closed the Bible and his eyes narrowed. “Adam, your insecurity is killing you and it’s driving Paige away. She can’t respect someone who doesn’t respect himself.”
    I bristled at the comment, but deep down I knew he was right.
    “You know what I think?” he continued, picking up his brush and dabbing at something on the paper.
    “Surprise me,” I said, cracking my neck. It was a nervous habit.
    “I think you’d rather live alone and unloved than to be in a relationship filled with disrespect.”
    “When I’m alone there’s less stress,” I admitted, “Less hassle.”
    “You mean less conflict?”
    “Yes, you nailed it!” I said, “Except the conflict with myself! I pretty much despise myself!”
    “Well that’s something that needs addressing, don’t you think?” He leaned forward, brush still flowing on the paper, and spoke softly. “Starts with refocusing your view. Get you seeing yourself as God sees you.”
    “The way God sees me?” I laughed again. “I can tell you how God sees me, as a failure, a big fat zero!”
    Jim Ed stopped the flow of his brush and looked at me long and hard. “When you see God’s love for you, you can begin to see yourself more clearly, the way your Creator, the Master Artist, sees you. That’s where your true identity and purpose comes from. Takes some adjustment and usually occurs in the middle of pain, but it’ll free you to live.”
    I said nothing, nor did I move.

8
    Jim Ed studied my profile and then studied the paper like a master chess player would calculate his next move. “You know I do understand what it’s like to despise yourself.” He removed his glasses and rubbed his nose with his thumb and index finger while still holding the brush. “I know all about hating oneself.”
    The comment caused me to jolt upright on the bench. “I find that hard to believe,” I said. “You seem so happy and at peace.”
    “Happy is a relative term,” he said, “but I am at peace… now. I had to learn, like you have to learn, to see myself as the Master Artist sees me.” He placed his bifocals back on and adjusted them on his nose. “You can’t even imagine what it was like growing up as a black man in the South back then. Things are a lot different now.”
    I didn’t see that coming either. It was hard to imagine how this intelligent, respectful, compassionate man could have been subject to ignorance and prejudice. Jim Ed’s eyes got a faraway look and made me wonder what long ago memory he was seeing.

    Mama Porter placed the shiny bright dime in little Jim Ed’s hand and squeezed it shut. “I be real proud of you, son. You
worked yourself hard this week—helped your Mama out so good. Now go on and pick whatever candy you want. You deserve it.”
    Little Jim Ed stared down at his hand, slowly unfolding his fingers, hardly believing his eyes. Ten whole cents! His mind danced with the possibilities as he tiptoed to get a clearer view of the myriad of candies behind the glass counter in Simmons Corner Store.