While our posts here are few and far between, please know our hearts are always with each of you, our readers. Our lives in Zambia get beyond busy, and when we have time, internet often says "NO", and so delays turn in to much time between posts. Our guest writer for today is Jaymeson. God has shown her that she can use writing to share how He is working in her life. Enjoy!
My name is Jaymeson, and I am 15 years old. My story is not what most people see every day. In fact, until a few months ago there were so many pieces in my story that didn't seem to line up. Things that I was unsure of how God was going to make something beautiful of them. To tell this story right, I need to start back in a big concrete room in 2018.
In March of 2018, a 9-year-old girl is sitting in the back of the cafeteria at the Tree of Life Children's Village in the capital city of Lusaka, Zambia. She's a bit excited, a bit sad, and a whole lot uncomfortable. She has lived in Zambia with her family since she was four, but she has just recently moved to Lusaka.
She stayed this way for a few years until her dad started up a farm at the Tree of Life. Her family had to help out a lot there at first, and she enjoyed the work. However, it made her have to interact with the kids. She slowly began to come out of her shell...as long as they talked first. Through that time, she made some good friends.
Once her dad got some reliable staff, her family didn't have to go work so much and life settled back into the "comfortable" routine. Life was good. She didn't have to talk to anyone or go out of her comfort zone for a little while. Then, in 2021, the program manager for the Tree of Life called her mom so they could have a meeting in the library. The kids just weren't reading like they should. That afternoon went smoothly with nothing unexpected. That evening, her mom got a message from the program manager. He asked her if she would start teaching literacy lessons to the kids that were just coming in to the facility. The little girl was shocked. Yes, she wanted to do what God wanted her to do, but there must be some mistake. She was a little bit excited and a whole lot uncomfortable.
The next year and a half caught the little girl up in a whirlwind. Having the two babies in the house come and sit on her lap while she did school soon turned into her teaching three babies for a few hours a day each week. Somedays it was enough to just have them all sitting in their chairs nicely instead of one crawling on the floor, one running out the door, and one teething and in tears on her hip. Life was good. She wasn't just a little girl anymore. She had her thirteenth birthday and was in high school. Her heart was wide open to these kids, and she was loving it.
In October of 2021, two children came in that would change her life forever. They were nine-year-old twins; their names were Bridget and Emmanuel. Bridget had been severely abused by men in her family. Her mind and body were so damaged, and that's why Emmanuel came in. He had not been abused but he was her caregiver. It was an instinct for him to look after her, and it was more than just a loving brother. There are no words to explain the level of care that Emmanuel provided for her.
The now teen girl received them just as she had all the others. She was determined to show these kids her love for them. The care they received from October to December was incredible. In two months, Bridget's body mass index went up two points and she had begun trying to speak. She was learning to read and write her name. She was trying to sing and dance in church. Yes, life was good, and the girl's heart was full.
On December 29th, the girl had been asked to teach the group that Bridget and Emmanuel were in, and in one activity Bridget did the best in the group. She was definitely improving. However, that was the last class that Bridget would ever be a part of as that evening they got the call that Jesus had called Bridget home. When the girl heard, she felt like she couldn't take another breath. How could Bridget just be gone? That night was one of many tearful and questioning prayers. It was one thing she could not make sense of. Over the next few days, the girl came to a few conclusions. She had loved too much. She had let her heart be too open just to let it be shattered. Also, God was wrong. He was definitely the enemy now. He had asked me to do something and I obeyed. Now this?
God gently asked the girl to trust Him in this. He had bigger plans; He would make something good of this. She turned her head and told Him, "No". She justified it by saying she had trusted in Him before and He hurt her. She went so far as to wonder if she even believed in Him. Was this something a God of love would even do? However, God gently told her that she was being selfish for feeling this way. Bridget was in pain. She was sick. She couldn't even run and play like the other kids her age, and she wanted her back.
She wrestled with this for the next two years growing more and more angry. Angry at God. Angry at the ones who had hurt Bridget. Angry at the world, and even angry at herself. She didn't like to feel so angry, but she didn't know how to let it go. Her family stopped working at the intake house that year due to some health issues with her mom. Her opportunity to connect with the kids was gone.
She had become so numb and bitter that she had just gone on living until August of 2023 came around. She was sitting back in church. One of the grade 12 girls had started an interpretive dance team earlier that year. They were truly beautiful. The girl had always loved dance, and that Sunday her mom pulled the grade 12 girl over to give her some music ideas. She loved the music and asked if we could bring it the next Monday when they practiced. She also specially invited the girl to come. The girl was ecstatic. She couldn't wait. For the first time in awhile she felt like she might be able to connect with the kids.
The next afternoon came and she was a little excited and a whole lot uncomfortable. They learned their dance and the girl made some new friends. By the next week she was teaching them a dance all by herself. Life was good. Her heart was back open again. Once the grade 12 girl graduated, the girl was teaching the dancers all by herself. She was looking forward to each day of practice, ready to dance but also to be with new friends. Friends who had been through tragedies and dark nights but still believed in Jesus.
This is my story. A story of how God took broken pieces and made something whole. I now can see why God had to take Bridget out of this world. I hadn't given my whole life to Him; I was still holding a little bit back. I was willing to follow Him in the good times; trust Him in the good times, but my faith was not founded in the rock. When the storm blew, I saw that my faith was built on sand. It was built on going to church on Sunday, saying my prayers, and ultimately putting on the "Christian" girl face. It took tragedy to make me stop in my tracks and see what I was really building my life on.
If you are reading this right now, even if you're not going through a tragedy like I did, I want to leave you with one word: Wait. God is still in control even if you can't see it. There is so much more working behind the scenes. The end is so much more beautiful when you can believe it is coming.
