October 21st,
God is never in a hurry.
But when He starts unraveling mysteries,
you better be paying attention.
Some answers don't come in thunder —
they come wrapped in silence, in scripture, in sudden tears.
***
It started with Mayumi.
Again.
This time, it wasn't a vision or a memory.
It was a dream that ended with a warning.
She called it "a shadow with no face" whispering in her ear:
"You've brought the light too close. Tell them to stop. Or we'll make them forget."
She woke up shivering, her hands cold even in the heat.
We didn't wait.
We declared a fast again — just three days.
Clarity. Protection. Direction.
That afternoon, I felt pulled to the school library — not the modern one with air conditioners and glass walls. The old archive behind the science building.
I wasn't looking for books.
I was drawn there.
That's where I met her.
An elderly woman, wearing a deep blue shawl and glasses too large for her small face.
She wasn't reading.
Just flipping through an old leather Bible.
She looked up at me and smiled, like she'd been waiting.
Then she said something strange:
"Tell the one who sees to look again. The roots aren't in the ground — they're in the bloodline."
I blinked.
"What?"
She tore out a slip of paper and handed it to me. On it was written:
Jeremiah 33:3 – 'Call unto Me and I will answer… and show you great and unsearchable things you do not know.'
Then, without another word, she walked out of the building — barefoot.
I didn't see her again.
When I told Anita later, her eyes widened.
"That's for me," she said quietly.
She'd been seeing flashes.
Blurred moments in time. Places she'd never been. Faces she couldn't place. But one thing was clear:
There was a woman tied to my family.
And her pain… had left a mark.
That evening, we sat on the hostel balcony. The sun was setting, golden and peaceful — but it felt like the calm before something.
Tony scrolled through his phone and showed me a text:
"Some leaders are calling for your suspension from the fellowship. They think you're bringing unnecessary attention. I'm trying to stall them. — Isaiah."
I bit my lip. "It's happening already."
Anita leaned forward. "That's why we fast. That's why we watch."
Then she looked at me strangely.
"Sandra… I think something's buried. Not just at the chapel. In your story. In your family."
My breath caught.
That night, Anita had her first open vision.
We were praying together, and she suddenly stopped.
Her eyes opened, but she wasn't looking at us.
She whispered, voice distant:
"A woman kneeling in a white dress, crying. Holding a child. She's surrounded by fire. And a voice says,
'The price was paid. The line must rise again.'"
She fell back in tears. I held her close, stunned.
I didn't fully understand what she saw.
But I knew this:
Whatever this war was…
It didn't start with us.
But we're the ones meant to end it.
***
There are chains you didn't ask for.
Battles you didn't start.
But if God allowed you to see them…
He's already prepared you to break them.