Hope In the Shadows

Sometimes, some stories linger in my mind, refusing to let go. Today, one such story has been with me and the lessons it carries are deep. I have always said, mentorship is not just about giving; it is a journey of learning aswell. We absorb wisdom, not to pile it, but to share it for the betterment of our society. I have always believed that the knowledge we gain should be a weapon for transforming lives and changing the narrative around us.

During one of our ministry events at one University, my husband and I met a young girl. She was at the time, a third-year student. The event lasted all night till dawn and by 3 AM, exhaustion weighed heavily on my legs and knees. I decided to step away, to rest a little in the car while the event wrapped up. My husband was with me when one girl approached us. I will call her Hope. A little detour, I name these girls in my stories not just as a label but based on what I believe they embody. In her, I saw resilience, a quiet strength waiting to bloom. And so, I will call her Hope.

Hope approached us, her appearance both confused and oddly composed. Something was clearly weighing on her heart. She hesitated, then finally spoke. “If not for this event, I wouldn’t have met you because I had planned to go home today.” She said as she showed some excitement that she met the people she wanted to meet. I was curious. “Oh? Is the semester officially over or are you just heading home early?” “No,” she replied. “That’s part of what I’m about to tell you.” She took a deep breath and continued, Her words measured but heavy.

“You see, I have both my parents. You’d think they weren’t my biological parents, but they are, 100%. Yet, they make me feel completely alone in this world. I am the firstborn and the first in my family to walk the corridors of a University. One would imagine they’d be proud to say the least, excited even. But no. My selection to University was just another day in their lives. That, I could have ignored. But what I cannot ignore is how they have forgotten they even have a child in school.” Her voice wavered, but she pressed on.

“Since my first year in school, my parents have never called me. If I don’t call, we don’t talk. They show zero interest in my life, my studies and worse in my struggles. When I go home for the holidays, I arrive with little or no notice. No warm welcome, no ‘we missed you.’ Just the same toxic environment, where they are constantly fighting, arguing or shouting at us. Just chaotic really. My home is toxic; home is traumatizing.” Tears welled up in her eyes and we could feel the weight of her pain. The pain of a child who couldn’t understand what she had done wrong to deserve such neglect.

As we spoke further, we learned that Hope had been fending for herself. She ran small businesses in school to cover her needs while her parents, who owned thriving businesses back home, rarely sent her any money. When she did call to ask, it was like rolling dice, sometimes which are probably the best of all, they simply said they had nothing to give her. Other times, it was worse. The Father would deflect, saying, 'I don’t have any, ask your mother,' and it would be the same with the mother. And when Hope asked either one of them as instructed, it would spark an argument between the parents, blame tossed back and forth, frustration boiling over, leaving her stranded in the middle of their never-ending battle. The burden seemed to be crushing her.

Her mind had spiraled into darkness, her heart growing weary. Staying in school felt impossible because her mental health was in shambles. That day, she had decided to leave. Not just campus, but education altogether. She thought that maybe, just maybe, if she dropped out, her parents would finally take notice. Perhaps then, they would be happy. Her pain was heartbreaking. We worked with Hope, offering her guidance, support and the help she needed. But even as we stood by her, we understand this alone was not enough. Healing could not come solely from external hands, it had to start where the wounds were first inflicted.

Dear Parents, Hope is not just one girl. She is the voice of countless others crying for help in silence. Many of them need parents who are not just present by name, but who take responsibility, who show love and support. There is no excuse, none, that justifies subjecting our children to mental and emotional neglect.

Hope will find help from people like us and from health professionals who care. But no amount of external help can fully heal her if she returns to a home filled with toxicity and pain. Healing starts at home. A healed home raises a healed child and a healed child grows into a responsible adult who will in turn, raise a healed and healthier generation.

Can we rewrite the stories of generations to come for a better world? Yes, we are capable!

...AND THE GREATEST OF THESE IS LOVE

 

In 2024, I met a girl who at a single glance, captured my attention. There was something about her; an unspoken radiance, a silent strength. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it but I knew she was special.

Now, if you know me, meeting and connecting with young girls or young women is nothing new. But this girl, who for the sake of this piece I will call Nia, was different. From our first encounter, she struck me as joyful, bubbly and remarkably intelligent. She had an energy that was both refreshing and contagious. Above all, she was beautiful not just in appearance but in the way she carried herself, in the spark of life that danced in her eyes.

We exchanged a few words that day, a brief conversation that left an impression. As time passed, our interactions became a little more friendly; just a few polite greetings here and there over WhatsApp. At that point, she was just an acquaintance, nothing more.

Then one night, around 11 PM, my phone rang. I sleepily reached for it, barely registering the name on the screen. Nia! Why is she calling me this late?

And then it hit me, she had texted earlier in the day that she wanted to talk. Still sleep weighed heavy on me and for a moment, I debated whether to ignore the call and respond in the morning. But something in me whispered otherwise. No one calls at this hour without a good reason.

Anyway, I answered.

"Hi… I’m so sorry for calling this late,” she began; her voice soft, almost hesitant. “I was still at work and I hope you were not sleeping, If you were I don't care if I woke you up because you are my friend now.” She said with a mocking laugh! 

“It’s alright,” I replied, my voice thick with sleep and exhaustion.

Then, silence. She laughed a little. You know that forced laughter debating where to begin. And then before I knew it, she broke.

Tears! Desperation! Pain laced with exhaustion. I listened as Nia cried, her voice trembling with the weight of burdens too heavy for someone her age. She was overwhelmed, lost in a storm of struggles, longing for the mother she had lost about 8 years ago, wishing life would ease its harsh grip. She envied her peers who moved through life effortlessly while she stumbled under responsibilities too large for her young shoulders.

For fifteen minutes, I said nothing. I just listened. You know, I have mastered the art of listening through mentorship. The soothing power that listening brings to the heart is unmatched. 

I listened to a soul caught between despair and hope, to a heart both fragile and unbreakable. You see, this is what makes Nia special and my heart smiles at this amount of strength and resilience. 

And when the moment felt right, I spoke; offering whatever words of encouragement my tired mind could muster. We prayed together and I reassured her that she was not alone.

Later, I came to learn Nia’s full story. She is 25. She lost her mother at age 17. Soon after, her father abandoned her and her younger siblings, forcing her into a role she was never prepared for. She became both mother and father to them, sacrificing her youth to ensure their survival. Every day has been a battle, working, studying, scraping together what little she could, to provide shelter, put food on the table and keep them in school. Life has barely been about her. 

Kind-hearted people stepped in along the way, offering her a job and providing bits of support for her to bounce back in education. But the truth remains, she still struggles to keep the roof from caving in on her family and she had been robbed of her childhood. She made the ultimate sacrifice, choosing her siblings' future over her own. While others her age were chasing dreams, Nia had simply been trying to keep her family afloat. And yet, she remains kind. She remains strong. And above all she is resilient! 

Nia has supported her siblings so well that one of them, now walks through the corridors of a public University while the other is thriving in secondary school. With their progress comes greater financial demands but Nia shoulders them with courage and unwavering determination. At the same time, she is trying to find her own footing, ready to step into the path of her long-held dreams.

No child should have to endure what Nia has. And yet, she has. She is a survivor, literally!

To be honest, Nia's story haunted me for days but the more I learned of her resilience, the more I believed in the greatness that awaits her. You haven’t heard even half of what Nia has survived; from wandering homeless with her luggage in search of shelter to  curling up on the cold floor, tears falling as the pain of hunger tortured her.

To me, Nia is no longer just an acquaintance. She is a part of my life. I seek to hold her hand, walking beside her, step by step as she inches toward her light. And in this journey, I have learned something profound:

In a world that values material things, I have discovered that the most precious gift is something intangible, something boundless. There is a lot we can do for others. We all have a part to play. We all are surrounded by Nias who are in need of somebody to lean on. We don’t need to have much to help someone hold on to life. We all have a lot to offer in this world; Love, money, encouragement and all kinds of material things,

…..And the greatest of these, is Love!