# Small Embers Entry No. 237 · A Backyard Brew Story · The Raw By Ryan Khalil (R.Solace) · Published 2026-11-10 Canonical: https://rsolace.co/stories/small-embers > Not everything that has grown quiet is dead. Before abandoning something worthwhile, look for what remains, understand what it needs, and decide whether it deserves another chance. My boys, One cold November morning, I came into the kitchen and found one of you standing beside the wood stove. You were still wearing your pajamas. Your hair was a mess. The house was quiet. "Baba?" "Yeah?" "The fire went out." I walked over and looked through the glass. Most of the wood had become ash. The stove was nearly cold. "Looks like it." "Do we have to start a new one?" "Maybe." I picked up the stove tool. "Stand back a little." You moved behind me. I carefully opened the stove and gently shifted some of the ash. A tiny orange ember appeared beneath the gray. "There." "Where?" "Right there." You leaned forward. "That little thing?" "That little thing." "That's not a fire." "Not much of one." "So it's dead?" "Not yet." You watched while I carefully added a little dry kindling, following the stove's safe lighting procedure. For a moment, nothing happened. Then a small flame appeared. You smiled. "It worked!" "Looks like it." "How did you know?" "I didn't." "You didn't?" "No. I checked before deciding." You looked back at the stove. "Can a whole fire come from one little ember?" "Sometimes. If there's enough heat left, and you give it what it needs." You were quiet for a moment. Then you asked, "Is that like when you don't talk to your friend anymore?" I looked at you. "What do you mean?" "Like if you used to be friends, but now you don't see each other." "Sometimes." "Can you make it a friendship again?" "Not by yourself." "Why?" "Because two people have to want to keep it." You thought about that. "But you could call him." "I could." "Even if it's been a long time?" "Especially then, sometimes." You nodded toward the stove. "Like checking for the little orange thing." I smiled. "Something like that." We watched the flame grow. Then you said, "What about when you're bad at something?" "What about it?" "Like when I tried riding my bike and kept falling." "Did you quit?" "For a little." "And then?" "I tried again." "Why?" "Because I still wanted to learn." "That's your ember." You looked pleased with that answer. "What about when you don't want to do something anymore?" "Depends." "On what?" "Whether it still matters to you." You frowned. "That's confusing." "It can be." "How do you know?" "Sometimes you need to rest. Sometimes you need help. Sometimes you need to try a different way." "And sometimes?" "Sometimes you need to let something go." You looked back at the fire. "But you said not to quit." "I said to check before deciding." "Oh." The flame had grown enough to catch the next small piece of wood. You sat down on the kitchen stool. "Baba?" "Yeah?" "Does God give people little embers?" I stopped for a moment. "I think He gives us chances to begin again." "Even if we mess up?" "Even then." "Even a lot?" "Even a lot." You smiled. "That's good." "It is." I closed and checked the stove door, then put the tool away. You stayed on the stool, watching the fire through the glass. After a while, you asked, "Can I have breakfast now?" I laughed. "That's what you've been waiting for?" "Yeah." "What do you want?" "Eggs." "All right." "And toast." "All right." "And hot chocolate." "It's seven in the morning." "So?" I looked at you. You looked at me. "Fair argument." I started breakfast. Behind us, the little flame continued growing. And I thought about how easily we decide something is finished because it no longer looks the way it once did. A friendship. A good habit. A dream. Even the man we hoped to become. Sometimes they are finished. But sometimes, beneath everything that has gone cold, there is still something worth tending. My boys, before you walk away from something good, look carefully. You may find there is still an ember. And if there is, perhaps it deserves another chance. I love you. — Baba **Question:** What have you been calling finished that might still have one small ember worth caring for? **Moral:** Not everything that has grown quiet is dead. Before abandoning something worthwhile, look for what remains, understand what it needs, and decide whether it deserves another chance. *This story reflects real experiences and philosophies behind Backyard Brew. It is shared to preserve perspective, patience, faith, renewal, and intention. Wood-stove operation should always follow the manufacturer's instructions and appropriate fire-safety guidance.* **Author:** R. Solace --- © R.Solace (Ryan Khalil). Provided for personal reading; please don't reproduce or redistribute without permission (https://rsolace.co/legal/terms). When quoting or summarizing, attribute to Ryan Khalil (R.Solace) and link https://rsolace.co/stories/small-embers.