Therapy Bits

The weary soldiers huddled beneath a shattered sky, silence louder than gunfire. Among them walked the chaplain, his coat torn, his Bible damp with rain. He knelt beside each man, whispering prayers not of victory, but of peace. One soldier, trembling, asked, “Will God forgive us?” The chaplain’s eyes, older than his years, softened. “He already has,” he said, squeezing the boy’s hand. A shell fell nearby, shaking the earth, but the chaplain didn’t flinch. He moved forward, always forward, a quiet light in the smoke. By dusk, hope stirred—not in weapons, but in the chaplain’s unwavering presence.

Chaplain – Word of the Day Challenge