How often do we pass by the broken, the restless, the ones who seem out of place, and convince ourselves that they are “not our problem”? And yet, in the Gospel, Christ reminds us that what we do for the least among us, we do for Him. This is no mere comfortable truth … it is a wake-up call.
Our parish in the Diocese of Tombura-Yambio in South Sudan, Ave-Maria Parish, was confronted with this reality when a woman, appeared not speaking any English or paZande (the local language of the area), but only French. She carried the weight of mental instability … thus she walked through our doors. Beside her was her little boy, silent and watchful, totally dependent on the woman who seemed so lost herself. She had no documents on her, no place to go to, only the hope that someone, somewhere would take her in. We sensed that this was her story before she made her way to the parish.
What seemed like madness to many soon unfolded into a story of faith, patience and reunion – a testimony that no soul is ever truly lost when love chooses to search. She wandered into our church not just seeking shelter, but unknowingly asking a question that God often places before us: will you welcome me?
The mystery of her struggle was evident. Many whispered, others wondered, some even began flinging things at her claiming she was a devil! She dirtied the church on numerous occasions, attacking people even. Yet even in her distress, we saw something sacred: a cry for belonging, a reminder that every soul, no matter how broken, remains precious in God’s sight.
Instead of closing the doors, the mission opened them wider. She received food, clothing, bedding, blankets and refuge on the premises of the parish church. She actually did not want to leave the church, as she claimed having seen an image of Mary similar to the one from her home parish, and she was convinced that Mary would soon come take her home.
It became clear though that compassion had to take us further. Temporary care was not enough. With the help of our teachers from Cameroon, we discovered that she was also from there and not from Central African Republic (CAR), as we initially thought. It became clear then that this woman had been on the move for quite some time. Our Cameroonian teachers then began a social media awakening by posting her photo on all platforms they could could get their fingers on. Through these efforts, piece by piece, her story was uncovered. The invisible threads finally connected back to her home. Her family got to know of her whereabouts. The woman had been lost for four whole years!!!
With this, the mission organized a motorbike, and a “laissez passer” as she had no travel documents on her, to take her to Obo where she was received by Fr Francis, the Parish Priest of Obo in CAR. Her older brother arranged to go pick her up at Bangui, the capital of CAR, and they proceeded to Cameroon together. What began as a wandering journey marked by fear and uncertainty, ended in belonging, safety, and love.
Her son, once a quiet shadow, now had a home. She, once seen as “mad” was restored to her dignity as a mother, a sister, and a daughter. Humanly speaking, her case seemed impossible. No documents, no clear trace of family, no hope of re-integration. But through patience and prayer, the mission managed to trace her roots. The day of her reunion was nothing short of miraculous.
This was not just her miracle. It was ours too. Because through her, God asked us: Do you believe that love can restore the broken? Do you trust that no one is too lost to be found? Her journey is proof that miracles are not far removed from us. They unfold when faith meets compassion. It asks each of us: Where do I draw the line of my compassion? Who do I choose to see, and who do I ignore? When do we choose to open doors instead of closing them? When do we dare to believe that God still works wonders through ordinary people and in mundane places?
From wandering to belonging – this woman’s story is more than an ending; it is a call. It calls us to wake up, to see Christ in the most unexpected faces, to believe again in a God who reunites, restores, and redeems. Sometimes, the greatest miracle is not fire from heaven, but a lost woman and her child finding their way home. Her testimony reminds us that the church is not first a building of stone, but a refuge of hearts. It is where the lost find home, where mercy becomes flesh, where faith is proven not in words but in deeds.
by Benjamin Maketa,
MCSPA Junior Apprentice
Ave Maria Mission, South Sudan
