Mike’s life had been defined by regret, resentment, and struggle until a hidden secret in his late grandmother’s Bible changed everything. It wasn’t just a book—it was a lifeline.
Working tirelessly at a grocery store, Mike’s uniform was wrinkled, his face weary, and the constant beeping of scanners blurred into the background of his exhaustion. Each day felt like a battle, with bills stacking up and his paycheck barely making a dent.
“Thank you. Have a good day,” he muttered to a customer, his words hollow. Good days were rare for Mike.
Another overdue medical bill buzzed on his phone. His mother, Kaila, had been fighting a relentless illness, and her treatments drained what little money they had. Despite working six days a week, Mike could never catch up.
At home, the small apartment he shared with Kaila was dimly lit, her frail form wrapped in a thin blanket on the couch.
“Hey, Mom,” Mike said softly, dropping his bag.
“How was work, sweetheart?” she asked with a warm but weak voice.
“It was fine,” he lied, forcing a smile.
“You work too hard,” she said. “I hate that you’re carrying all this alone.”
Mike swallowed his exhaustion. “It’s nothing, Mom. I’ve got it handled.”
But they both knew he didn’t. After retreating to his room, Mike sat in silence, staring at a pile of unopened bills. The weight of his struggles felt suffocating.
His eyes landed on an old box in the corner—his grandmother’s Bible. It had been years since he’d touched it, years since their last fight echoed in his mind.
Grace had been a devout, stubborn woman, urging Mike to church every Sunday. At 18, he rebelled, choosing freedom over faith. Their last argument still stung.
“Michael, it’s time for church,” Grace had said, standing in his doorway with her Bible.
“I’m not going,” he’d replied, not looking up from his phone.
Grace’s voice grew stern. “Get up and come with me. You need the Lord.”
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