The Fire Still Burns
The farmhouse was quiet now, but the air still carried the weight of worship. It had been years since the first revival shook their small town, a move of God born from rejection, a fire that refused to die.
Miriam stood by the window, watching snow drift across the fields, her heart stirring with a familiar ache. Something was coming. She could feel it.
The candle on the mantle flickered, stubborn against the winter chill...