The days after the fire felt endless.
There was no land, no farm, no inheritance — only faith.
We lived from hand to mouth, and some days there was no hand, no mouth, only hunger.
But God kept showing up in the smallest ways.
A neighbor who brought leftover food.
A stranger who paid part of a bill.
A friend who offered kind words at the exact moment I thought I would break.
These were the miracles that reminded me that heaven still heard me.
My husband and I learned to make joy out of the little things.
We would gather the children, sing, and pray together before bed.
Their laughter became my medicine.
When I looked at them, I saw God's promise that life, no matter how bitter, still held sweetness.