About Me
Hello, fam
I’m Ursula — a divorcee, a mother to three beautiful children, and someone learning every day what it means to let Jesus truly lead my life. I work in IT, but my greatest work is allowing the Holy Spirit to live through me.
My deep love for babies — especially the abandoned and neglected — led me to found Emmanuel Baby Home, a place where little ones are reminded that they are seen, chosen, and deeply loved.
This is me — still growing, still surrendering, and trusting God with every chapter.
"My presence will sustain you."
- God
The story continues...
I was raised in a Christian home, and my late grandmother made sure that strong values and faith principles were woven into the fabric of our lives.
We knew about God — how big He is, how powerful, how sovereign. We knew about Jesus. We went to church every Sunday, faithfully, almost ritualistically. Attendance mattered. As long as we were there, we had checked the box. It didn’t matter if we remembered the sermon by Monday morning — what mattered was that we showed up.
We knew about God — how big He is, how powerful, how sovereign. We knew about Jesus. We went to church every Sunday, faithfully, almost ritualistically. Attendance mattered. As long as we were there, we had checked the box. It didn’t matter if we remembered the sermon by Monday morning — what mattered was that we showed up.
Looking back, I realize we knew religion… but I had never truly heard about relationships.
No one ever explained that walking with Jesus meant personal intimacy and a complete lifestyle change.
I didn’t understand the weight and beauty of fully accepting Him. I didn’t understand surrender. I didn’t know that yielding my whole life to Him would allow Him to live through me — that from that place, everything concerning my life would flow. “Act 17:28 In Him we live and move and have our being.” Those words were Scripture, but they were not yet my reality.
I didn’t understand the weight and beauty of fully accepting Him. I didn’t understand surrender. I didn’t know that yielding my whole life to Him would allow Him to live through me — that from that place, everything concerning my life would flow. “Act 17:28 In Him we live and move and have our being.” Those words were Scripture, but they were not yet my reality.
I started dating at 18. My first serious relationship became my husband, the father of my children. I was content in my marriage, or at least I told myself I was. But deep down, there was always this quiet thought: this is not God’s plan for my life. I never entered the relationship with marriage in mind. I didn’t dream of building a family at that time. In my mind, it was just a season — something temporary that would eventually pass. At least, that’s what I believed. Yet life unfolded differently.
I found myself married at 24, right after completing my studies. Soon after, I became a mother. I tried to make peace with the life in front of me, even though it didn’t look like the aspirations I once carried in my heart. I had imagined something different. Still, I told myself, maybe this is God’s plan. Maybe this is how it was meant to be.
But in the middle of it all, there was an absence of peace I couldn’t ignore. It was subtle, but persistent — like something wasn’t quite aligned. Something didn’t add up. I couldn’t name it. I couldn’t pinpoint it.
The loneliness I had carried since childhood was louder than the gentle whisper of God. The fear of being alone again overshadowed discernment. I prayed about my relationship, yes — but I never truly invited Him into it. I never surrendered it. I wanted His blessing, but not necessarily His leadership.
The signs were there. But without spiritual understanding, signs mean nothing.
Then came the moment that still feels frozen in time. The moment when everything I had built my security on collapsed. It felt like my entire world cracked open. The fulfillment I thought marriage would bring, the trust I had placed in it, the sense of stability I clung to — it all came crumbling down.
It was like living inside a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from.
And suddenly, I wasn’t a wife. I wasn’t secure. I wasn’t
steady. I was that little girl again. Sitting alone in her room.
steady. I was that little girl again. Sitting alone in her room.
Feeling forgotten, lost, and Invisible.
Ursula Jafta