Divorced Mom of three discovering life with Jesus!
I pray with all my heart that Jesus Christ would be revealed to you through these words. As I open up about my personal journey—the beautiful moments, the painful seasons, the quiet battles no one else saw—I pray that your desire to know Jesus as Lord would deepen and burn brighter.
He has carried me through every single season faithfully, and that still leaves me in awe. In my weakness, He was my strength. In my confusion, He was my peace. In my breaking, He was the One who gently held every piece together.
If I’m being honest, not in a million years did I think I would be sitting here writing about my personal life. The very thought would have terrified me. If you know me personally, you know how private I am. I have always guarded my life and experiences closely, keeping the most tender parts tucked away. Sharing like this does not come naturally to me—it feels vulnerable and stretches me in ways I can’t fully explain, but this is bigger than my comfort. This is obedience!
Welcome to my Personal Journal with Jesus at the center.
This is where I choose to lay everything down — my pride, my fear, my carefully guarded walls — and be as transparent and vulnerable as the Holy Spirit allows.
Here is where I open my heart and share my journey — my marriage, the heartbreak of divorce, and the long road of healing that followed. I will share what it felt like to step back into dating after everything fell apart… the confusion, the hope, the mistakes. The painful reality of the moments I missed God’s voice along the way. The seasons when I tried to move ahead of Him. The lessons learned through tears I never thought would stop falling.
I will share what it has meant to trust Him again — not just with my healing, but with my future. To surrender my desire for marriage just to place it fully into His hands. To believe that He is the Author of my love story, even when the pages felt torn and rewritten in ways I didn’t understand.
There were difficult seasons — seasons that tested my faith, my identity, and my strength. But through every valley, the Holy Spirit met me there. He corrected me, comforted me, convicted me, and carried me. What could have destroyed me became the very ground where He rebuilt me.
This is my story — not of perfection, but of redemption.
The story of
Ursula Jafta
Before I share my testimony, let me take you back to where my story truly began.
I grew up in a small township called Eersterust in Pretoria, South Africa — a community widely known as a “Coloured” area, where many mixed-race families have built their homes and stories. It wasn’t fancy or extravagant, but it was familiar. It was home.
I was an only child, raised by my mom and my stepfather. Most of my childhood memories are quiet ones. I spent a lot of time alone. Yet I cannot say that I ever lacked anything. My mother was a hardworking woman — strong, determined, and endlessly selfless. She carried the weight of our household on her shoulders as the breadwinner. She left early in the mornings and returned late at night, pouring herself out to make sure everything — and everyone — was taken care of.
Even when she had time off, there was always something waiting for her attention. Laundry. Cleaning. Responsibilities that never seemed to end. We didn’t have many family gatherings. There weren’t many friends constantly in and out of our home. Our world felt small and contained.
So most of my days were spent in my room — alone with my thoughts, my imagination, and the silence.
From a very young age, I learned how to be independent. Life required it.