 Winter. It brought not only cold but despair. In the war-torn city of Lyman, dozens of people, including children, hid in basements, fighting to survive. The sound of rockets, the flames in the ruins, and the cries of shattered lives filled the air. People who once lived normal lives now dreamed only of warmth.
One day, a team of chaplains arrived in the city. They brought more than spiritual support--they brought life-saving stoves, small heaters that could bring warmth where gas and electricity had long disappeared. But there were only a few stoves, and the needs were overwhelming. In the basements, where up to twenty people lived together, the stoves were distributed carefully--two stoves per basement. People accepted them gratefully, but outside, more faces waited. More pleas. Among the crowd was an elderly woman, around seventy. Her face was etched with deep lines, witnesses to the winters and hardships she had endured. But her eyes still held a flicker of hope. But her eyes still held a flicker of hope. She approached Oleg, one of the chaplains, holding a small bundle in her trembling hands. "Son, please, give us a stove. My husband and I live in a flat with broken windows, no gas, no electricity. We're freezing......" Oleg looked at her shaking hands, trembling not only from the cold but also from despair. But he knew the harsh reality--there were very few stoves left, and in the basements, entire families were freezing. "I'm sorry, ma'am," he said, his voice heavy. "I can't give you a stove. There just aren't enough..." Her eyes filled with tears that fell silently down her weathered cheeks. "So, what are we supposed to do? Freeze to death?" Her voice cracked as she turned and walked away, her steps slow and unsteady, like a tree weighed down by a storm. Oleg stood there, motionless, his heart breaking. She reminded him of his own mother, a woman who had always cared for her family, and whom he would never leave in need. He sank to the ground, tears streaming down his face. "Lord, what do I do? How can I turn her away? You promised to care for everyone...." And then, clarity came to his heart. He stood, took one of the last stoves, and carried it to her home. She was there, in her cold, broken apartment. Her hands shook as she opened the door and saw Oleg standing there with the stove. She began to cry again, but this time her tears were of gratitude. Oleg set up the stove and lit the first fire. Warmth slowly filled the room, and the woman's face softened with relief. "You didn't just save us, son," she said softly. "You showed us that God hasn't forgotten us." This story isn't just about a stove. It's about love. It's about the willingness to help, even when resources are scarce. It's a reminder that every act of kindness can be the answer to someone's prayer. In a world broken by war, we are called to be the ones who bring fire--not only to stoves but also to hearts.
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