Many of us were leaning on the very fence that shocked our guide, translator, and friend, B. We laughed, amazed at how close the lighting strike was. I was clueless. Only a few in our group saw the spark on the fence pole she was leaning against. The air was electric, sending a tickle down my neck.
Suddenly I was being pulled.
“Get off the fence. Get off the fence!”
The tone in my friend’s voice was alarming.
“She’s on the ground.”
That was when I saw B, and that was when the atmosphere shifted. I don’t remember those first few moments very well. We surrounded her body. She was stiff as a log, and she wasn’t waking up.
Within seconds, the light rain shower that had caused us to stop walking, had turned into a hailstorm.
“We need to get her to the clinic.”
As if on cue, a truck came down the road. I waved the truck down, later learning that the driver, Jon, was our ministry host’s son. He was actually on his way to pick us up so we wouldn’t have to walk in the storm. He just so happened to drive up within seconds of the incident.
We lifted B off the ground. Her legs wouldn’t bend, so she was laid in the backseat of the truck on my friend’s laps. The rest of us piled into the back of the truck. 15 people. One truck. And one unconscious 17 year old girl.
Rain and hail shot down at an angle, stinging my skin and drenching my clothes. It was so cold I could see my breath as I gripped onto those around me to keep myself steady on the bumpy dirt road. An unspoken fear hung over us.
So we prayed. We prayed over the fear and over the sound of hail pounding the truck like bullets. Moments later, we hopped out of the truck outside the clinic and carefully lifted B. Once again, we surrounded her.
And we paused.
For some reason beyond us all, we paused.
Her body seemed frozen solid. Rain streamed down her face. I heard someone say, “Her hands are clenched shut.”
Before I knew what came over us, we began to pray all at once, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her face.
Phrases blurred together– “Body relax,” “I pray over her heart,” “hands unclench,” “in the name of Jesus,” “right now,”
— “wake up.”
B’s eyes fluttered open. Her hands unclenched.
My jaw dropped.
Someone told me to massage her hand. So I did. I outstretched her hand, squeezing her ice cold fingers between mine.
I heard the most beautiful phrase repeated around me, and I found it leaving my lips, “Thank you, Jesus.”
Never in my life have I experienced awe like I did in that moment. I wanted to cry. Not because of my lack of knowledge about how lightning effects the human body, not because of the unspoken fear that had whispered, “what if she doesn’t wake up?” But because God had just opened the eyes of a girl whose full name I didn’t even know. And because no one and nothing could convince me that she just so happened to wake up by coincidence the moment those prayers were spoken.
Within 20 minutes, B walked out of the clinic.
Walked.
And you know what my favorite part of this story is?
It was day one.
Our first full day in Malealea, Lesotho, we got to witness a miracle on our tour of the valley. Needless to say, we all knew this would be a good month.
The next day, B was playing a weird version of limbo with some friends. They held a string in the air, and instead of gradually lowering it, they lifted it higher. Instead of going under the string, I watched B jump over it.
The same girl who was shocked by lighting the previous day, was leaping higher than I ever will! She played jump rope and laughed with her friends.
I talked with B and learned she didn’t remember anything about the shock. Which was cool, because we prayed God would clear her memory if needed. B told me that she was very grateful for what happened, because God has given her this testimony.
We began ministry in Lesotho with very thankful hearts, and praise God, with B by our side. Walking with us, serving with us, and translating for us.
On that note, here’s what ministry/life here looks like:
6:00am – 6:30am: wake up
6:30am – 7:00am: walk to a beautiful river about five minutes from the Africa For Jesus compound (one of my favorite parts of my time here by far)
7:00am – 8:00am: quiet time spent with the Lord in the Bible and in prayer
8:00am – 9:00am: breakfast and getting prepared for ministry
9:00am – 9:40am: walk to a village in Malealea valley
9:40am – 12:30pm: we go house to house, serving however it’s needed (dishes, laundry, sweeping, gardening, moving rocks, shucking corn, etc) and asking each person we serve how we can pray for them, then we read scripture and pray for them
12:30pm – 1:00pm: walk back to Africa For Jesus compound
1:00pm – 2:00pm: lunch break
2:00pm – 4:00pm: serving our ministry host however needed (gardening, shoveling dirt and rocks, fetching water, etc)
4:00pm – 6:00pm: free time to spend with each other, enjoy the mountains that surround us, play games, do our laundry, etc
6:00pm – 7:00pm: dinner time (meals courtesy of Mama Faith. My love for porridge and greens has skyrocketed!)
7:00pm – 8:00pm: team time and quality time with each other, sometimes group worship or debrief with Peter, our ministry host
8:00pm – 9:00pm: hang out and get ready for bed
9:00pm: lights out!
Friday’s are ministry off days, where we can relax and maybe go to the travel lodge for wifi and snacks. Saturday’s are adventure days, where we can explore or see local sights (we went horse backing riding through mountains to a waterfall and cave paintings!) Sunday’s we attend local-led church at the compound. I love our schedule here. We walk a lot, and it’s so lovely!
I love you all so much and I’m so grateful for your support. I hope you’re encouraged by this story, and I can’t wait to share more! Continue praying for funds, for God to move in Lesotho, and for continued health for B. Thank you for reading and keep the faith.
