"I don't even want to go near them," JB muttered, his frown deepening. Does my sister think I'm a child who can be lured?
"I am not a child that can be tempted," he added to himself.
"Neither are the men who commit adultery," Kaliyah replied plainly.
She continued, her voice steady, quoting Proverbs 6:26–35:
"Do not lust after her beauty or let her captivate you with her eyes. For a prostitute can be had for a loaf of bread, but another man's wife preys on your very life. Can a man scoop fire into his lap without his clothes being burned? Can he walk on hot coals without his feet being scorched? So is he who sleeps with another man's wife; no one who touches her will go unpunished. People do not despise a thief if he steals to satisfy his hunger when he is starving. Yet if he is caught, he must pay sevenfold, though it costs him all the wealth of his house. But a man who commits adultery has no sense; whoever does so destroys himself. Blows and disgrace are his lot, and his shame will never be wiped away. For jealousy arouses a husband's fury, and he will show no mercy when he takes revenge. He will not accept any compensation; he will refuse a bribe, however great it is."
Kaliyah looked at her brother, now at the age when temptations could easily sway him. He met her gaze with equal seriousness.
"It is better to flee from lust, as Joseph son of Jacob did, than to tumble in sheets with a married woman and fill yourself with sinful pleasure."
JB, usually receptive to reason, felt the weight of her words. For the first time, he truly understood the seriousness of her guidance. Kaliyah turned and walked away, leaving him to ponder in silence.
He opened his mouth to ask her something, but a sudden scream froze him.
"JB! JB!" Her voice rang out, full of excitement.
Confused, he ran toward her, and when he arrived, he saw the source of her joy. Her eyes sparkled as they fell on an astonishing sight: an abundance of jackfruits, bananas, and other fruits—more than he had ever seen. The most baffling thing is that, this fruits wasn't even on season for them to bear fruits.
Kaliyah clasped her hands and prayed in gratefulness towards God, her King, her Provider. "Praise be to God for His goodness and provisions," she exclaimed, her voice trembling with gratitude. "Truly, God always provides."
JB looked around in awe. Sunlight filtered through the dense canopy, illuminating the fruits as though each one had been placed there by divine hands. A gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of ripeness, and even the forest seemed to hum with quiet celebration.
"Praise be to God for making the impossible possible," JB whispered, feeling a warmth in his chest as though God Himself was acknowledging their faith.
The two decided that they are going to the town tomorrow to offer the first harvest of their fish to the church of God.
They put the fish on a tank and filled it with water. Their mom already had already cooked the rice and only a small sachet of salt left after frying fish and the recently picked vegetable.
When JB glanced at it, he felt depressed but looking at the new harvest fish, he felt hope for tomorrow. There's only a few cup of grains left. The two decided to go to town early in the morning.
Encouraged, they ventured deeper into the forest, and soon they discovered a river they had never seen before. Its waters shimmered like liquid crystal, reflecting the sunlight in dazzling patterns. The forest, usually foreboding and full of unseen dangers, now seemed welcoming, almost holy, as if God had carved out this hidden sanctuary just for them.
No one usually came here, and even if they did, fear of snakes and wild beasts kept them away. Yet Kaliyah and JB, guided by faith and courage, found a bountiful harvest hidden within nature's quiet embrace—a clear sign that when one trusts in God, even the most impossible paths can yield miracles.
Encouraged, they stepped into the shallow river, its cool waters brushing their knees as if welcoming them. Neither of them had fished this way before, yet the river did not resist them. Instead, it flowed calmly around their legs, clear and patient, revealing smooth stones and fleeting flashes of silver beneath the surface.
Kaliyah, the elder, held the woven basket with steady hands, though her heart beat fast with uncertainty. JB followed her lead, careful and attentive, stirring the water just as they had been taught. The current carried their movements downstream, guiding the fish toward the waiting baskets, as though creation itself understood their need in accordance to the Creator's will.
At first, there was doubt. The baskets felt heavy, the water unpredictable. But then the river answered. When Kaliyah lifted her basket, fish gleamed within it—caught not by skill alone, but by grace. JB's eyes widened, and he whispered a breath of awe, as if afraid to disturb the moment.
They continued, growing more confident with each step, their laughter soft and restrained, mindful of the sacred stillness around them. Before long, the baskets were filled with more fish than they had hoped for, a quiet abundance resting at their feet.
It was a reminder written in water and light: that when one walks forward in faith, even unfamiliar paths can lead to blessing, and God's care can be found in the most unassuming places.
They placed the fish into buckets and filled them with water, watching the surface ripple as the living catch swam within. The weight of provision slowed their steps as they began the walk home, buckets knocking gently against their legs, fruit baskets heavy in their arms.
JB broke the silence first. "What are we going to do with all of this?" he asked, glancing at the buckets. "Should we sell all of it? And there's a lot of fruit too."
Kaliyah did not hesitate.
"We will give the first bucket of fish to the church," she said. "It is our first harvest. The second we will keep. The third and fourth we will sell." She paused, then added, "The fruits will be the same."
JB nodded, accepting her decision without question.
The first harvest belonged to God. It was her offering of reverence and love, a quiet acknowledgment that what they carried was never theirs to begin with.
What more could she ask of a God who had loved her before she knew how to speak His name? He had known her before she was formed, before her days were counted, before her hands had ever lifted a basket from the river. His love had gone before her, steady and unchanging.
She knew she could never repay such faithfulness. She was imperfect—prone to stumbling, to falling, to returning with hands stained by her own failures. Yet still she came to Him, knowing He would cleanse her, receive her, and love her without weariness.
And so she walked on, resolved to worship Him not in flawlessness, but in obedience—striving toward holiness, toward love, kindness, faithfulness, and forgiveness—toward becoming more like Him, who is love itself.