I spent my childhood in a troubled home. As the eldest, I often gathered my siblings into a room to protect them from the abuse my mother suffered at the hands of my stepfather. All I knew to do was to call the police. Though I longed for these events to be few and far between, they persisted for a decade.
My parents never modeled healthy friendships; our weekends were filled with chaotic house parties fueled by alcohol and drugs.
This turbulent lifestyle continued until the day of my youngest brother’s accident. At just eight months old, he managed to crawl into our indoor spa—situated off the master bedroom—with no safety cover, as the sliding door had been left open. I was only 14 and responsible for my four siblings. Although I had placed him in his crib, my mom briefly took him out during her lunch break. While I was cleaning the bathroom downstairs, she left without me realizing he was no longer secured.
I vividly remember that moment in the kitchen, scrubbing the mop, when my sister asked where our brother was. Without hesitation, I told her to check the spa—only to confront the living nightmare of finding my infant brother adrift in the water.
He slipped into a coma for two weeks. My brother survived. But the deprivation of oxygen left him with impaired motor skills. Since the accident, he has been unable to speak, or learn to walk, and he eats through a feeding tube.
This dark period forced our family into silence, each coping in our own way. For my stepfather, coping meant lashing out and blaming me, exclaiming, “You killed my son!”
Not long after, I earnestly turned toward my Heavenly Father, yearning for Him to remove me from this painful existence as I grappled with overwhelming guilt over my brother’s accident.
Then, a neighbor invited me to a church retreat, where I spent a weekend immersed in prayer and worship. The overwhelming peace that washed over me was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. I felt hope and love for the first time. I even learned a song that weekend—a tune I still belt out when I feel pure joy:
“Jesus Christ is the Lord of all, Lord of all the Earth!
Jesus Christ is the Lord of all, Lord of all the Earth!
Only one God, over the nations, only one Lord of all.
In no other name, is there salvation, Jesus is Lord of all.”
My Father has never let me down. I have approached Him in my brokenness time and again, and every time, He has carried me through. He meets me exactly where I am, and I take comfort knowing that He understands the depths of my heart.
“O Lord, you are so good, so ready to forgive, so full of unfailing love for all who ask for your help. Listen closely to my prayer, O Lord; hear my urgent cry. I will call to you whenever I’m in trouble, and you will answer me” Psalms 86:5-7 (NLT).
Like King David, I have learned that we must always seek God in our darkest valleys, for it is in those moments that He is nearest.
“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed” Psalms 34:18 (NLT).
Jessica Mathaudhu is a beloved child of God, a proud wife to Suneel, and a devoted mother to Jadyn (18), Saliyah (13), and Seline (7). She finds joy in every opportunity to hike in nature, where she feels a deep connection to her Father.