The Day the Mountain Moved

Today, I didn't know which hat to wear. Leader? Witness? Sister? Shoulder?

Because the room was filled with tears.

But not the kind we're used to.

Today at WRC, we disbursed school fees for the 8 mothers in our 2025 program.

These women—single mothers who do laundry, sell vegetables, clean houses—have been carrying a mountain on their backs. And today, that mountain moved.

One mother—Joy—fell to her knees, trembling, saying through tears:

"Every time schools close, I go to a prayer center. To thank God for protecting my children… and to beg Him for school fees for the next term."

She had just returned from the mountain yesterday.

Today, her prayer was answered.

Another mother could barely get the words out:

"My daughter missed most of last term because I couldn't pay. I tried everything. Her grades suffered. But now… now she will go back with fees fully paid."

Her voice broke. She cried—not from shame, but from freedom.

Some mothers couldn't speak at all.

They just cried.

Some dropped to their knees and began praying aloud.

Some sat quietly, covering their faces, letting it all out.

And I just sat there, watching it all unfold.

Because sometimes… you don't interrupt a holy moment.

This is what breakthrough looks like.

Not loud. Not flashy.

Just sacred.

And real.

We keep going—not because it's easy,

but because every tear turned into joy

is proof that this work is holy.

2025 will never be the same for these 8 women.

And neither will I.