Firefly Glen "Through the Refiner’s Fire" (Malachi 3:3)

periane did not move at first. she stood firm, still as stone, as the sandstone woman wavered closer, as her words poured forth with the weight of conviction.
"the signs are there."
were they?
periane’s gaze flickered to the heavens, as if searching for the answer herself. she had spent so long seeking, so long listening—yet the silence remained. now, this woman spoke as if certainty was her birthright.
if the Lord sees all, she murmured, tilting her head slightly, then He sees my uncertainty, too.
pindent]a pause, measured, thoughtful.
i pray for a clearer path.
her voice did not waver, but there was something in it—something raw. she was no stranger to faith, but faith was not blind. faith was not without struggle.
she watched as the woman murmured her hymn, eyes closed, lost in devotion. periane joined her. head lowering, a tangible moment between God and herself.
tell me your name, sister.