Acknowledgments A heartfelt thank you to the amazing professionals who made my 50th birthday photo shoot extra special: Photography • Kay Photography_Official • MAM Studio Gh. Hair • Pedes Beauty Section Make-Up • Icon Beauty Parlour 2 The Birthday Journal
C o n t e n t Chapter 1: Early Sparks Chapter 2: Formative Fires Chapter 3: Becoming Chapter 4: Through the Fire and the Flow Chapter 5: Grace Carried Me 04 04 10 16 23 26 10 16 23 26 The Birthday Journal 3
I sat on a small stool in our compound, in front of a coal pot. On the fire was a medium-sized metal pot with oil sizzling in it, and around me were small flat plates of already prepared ingredients: blended onion, pepper and spice, pureed tomatoes, a big bowl of cooked chicken, some rice, and all the other things I would need to make a good pot of jollof. Like a little mother, I had tied a cloth around my chest and was surrounded by my younger brother and the neighbours’ children, who watched me hungrily, eager for the food to be ready. "Great chef !" our neighbours would shout from time to time, as they conversed loudly about my cooking prowess with my uncles, who were beaming with pride. I myself was feeling swollen-headed. The only snag was that my mother had been away on her business trip to Togo for three days now, and occasionally, my heart would jump for fear that something bad had happened to her. Enyonam — It is well with me I came into this world on a Thursday morning— 7th August 1975—at Prince of Peace Maternity Home in Abeka, Musuli, around 8 a.m. My birth was through the loins of Lt. Col. (Rtd.) C.J. Adigbo and the womb of Madam Cecilia Nyakpor. A few hours later, I was referred to 37 Military Hospital, Early Sparks. “Some beginnings are simple, but they carry the echo of grace.” C H A P T E R 1 4 The Birthday Journal
where I spent the next few days before being discharged on Monday, 11th August. My entry into this world felt ordinary, but even then, something sacred stirred in the air. Perhaps it was the name my grandmother had already chosen for me—Enyonam, “It is well with me.” A name spoken over me like a blessing before I could even cry. My grandmother died just five months later. I never got to know her, but I carry the name she gave me like a shawl over my shoulders—soft and sure. It has helpedme throughmany phases of my life, especially when I’ve struggled with the changing scenes of life. I remember who I am and appreciate that all is well with me, and that God is with me. My grandma’s passing left my mother to play the dual role of both mum and grandma, especially as I was her first child. That loss shaped our little family in ways we felt for years, but it also strengthened the bond between my mother and me in ways words can’t fully explain. Those early years taught me one of life’s first quiet lessons—that grace doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it simply shows up as a mother who stays. The Great Chef From a young age, I showed signs of being curious— especially in the kitchen. I would watch my mother closely as she cooked, studying her every move. By the time I was 10 or 11, I had already become a pretty good cook myself. Whenever she was away, I would prepare meals, gather the children in our compound house, and share the food with them. I wasn’t just cooking—I was building community, creating joy, and discovering a part of myself that loved bringing people together. I was always surrounded by friends. Our house was a lively one, especially when our mother wasn’t home. I’d keep the other children company, and after eating, we’d play ampe while the boys busied themselves with football. I didn’t just love company—I loved people. I was known to be friendly, generous, and the kind of child who would make everyone feel welcome. Those early years taught me one of life’s first quiet lessons—that grace doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it simply shows up as a mother who stays. “ The Birthday Journal 5
“ Looking back, those early years were full of simple joys, big dreams, and quiet strength. Even then, I was learning how to nurture, how to lead, and how to live with heart. 6 The Birthday Journal
Taking care of my younger brother came naturally to me. Even as a little girl, I felt a sense of responsibility for him. There’s one story frommy childhood that still makes me smile. My mother once travelled to Togo on one of her business trips. It was meant to be a short visit, but the border was closed, and she ended up stranded for several days. Naturally, she was worried about how we were managing at home. But when she returned, the tenants in our compound had stories to tell. Apparently, I had taken charge— cooking all sorts of dishes, sharing with the children in the house, and making excellent use of the fowls we were rearing at the time. I had basically run a mini-restaurant while she was away! They nicknamed me the “Great Chef ”, and it was a title I wore proudly. I began my formal education at Harrow International Preparatory School, where my love for learning first took root and laid the academic foundation that would support me in the years to come. Later, I transitioned to Kotoka Primary School, where I completed my primary education. This move brought new friendships, fresh challenges, and a different environment that shaped me in meaningful ways. After primary school, I moved on to Armed Forces Secondary School—a bridge to greater independence and broader perspectives. Not long after, I walked through the gates of Accra Girls’ School, where the next chapter of my life—my teenage years—would begin. Looking back, those early years were full of simple joys, big dreams, and quiet strength. Even then, I was learning how to nurture, how to lead, and how to live with heart. Taking care of my younger brother came naturally to me. Even as a little girl, I felt a sense of responsibility for him. “ The Birthday Journal 7
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Some beginnings are simple, but they carry echoes of greatness. “ The Birthday Journal 9
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Bounce, bounce, dribble, dribble. I bounced the basketball, running towards our opponents’ hoop. A draught of air brushed past my face. “Jemima! Jem!” It was one of my teammates, Gloria ObengDjan, beckoningme to pass the ball to her, as Iwas surrounded by opponents. I did, and she passed it on to another teammate, Mercy, who took the ball, dribbled a bit more, saw an opening, ducked past our opponents, ran towards the hoop and, stretching her body in one big jump, dunked the ball in. Our side of the court erupted in joy. We had been called for basketball practice ahead of an inter-schools competition. Just then, a junior came running. “Sister Jemima,” she called, “you have a visitor.” I quickly stopped what I was doing and hurried outside, praying it would be my mother. The joy I felt when I saw her standing there with my younger brother, Charles, is something I’ll never forget. During prep that evening at Accra Girls, as I filled in the forms for sixth form, I could sense a new season of life unfolding. I debated which school to choose, hoping for somewhere outside Accra—and yes, it had to be a co-ed school. I’d had enough of being in an allgirls’ environment. That’s how Swedru Secondary School became my first choice. Thankfully, with the help of my stepmother, who was an educationist, I got in. Formative FIRES. “It is not what we remember, but how we remember it, that shapes who we become.” C H A P T E R 2 The Birthday Journal 11
Between the ages of 11 and 20, life unfolded with a rhythm that was both tender and transformative. These were the years where innocence met curiosity, and girlhood blossomed into early womanhood. Though the memories are layered and some edges blur with time, the essence of that period still glows brightly in my heart. It was a time of discovering my voice, forming lasting bonds, and grounding myself in values that would become the bedrock of my life. My journey through adolescence began at Accra Girls’ Secondary School, a vibrant space of laughter, rules, friendships, and self-discovery. It wasn’t just an academic setting; it was a social crucible that moulded much of who I am today. Here, I formed some of my first deep friendships—with Evelyn Animwaa, Evelyn (Rebel), Rebecca Amarteifio, Ekua Jonfiah, and Theresa. These girls were more than classmates; theyweremy circle, my sisters. Together, we mapped out our holidays like little architects of joy—whether it was a trip to braid our hair or just visiting each other and talking about our dreams. Among us, Rebecca Amarteifio stood out with a unique sense of loyalty and care. As a day student, she became my lifeline between school and home, making sure all my provisions and personal needs sent by my parents got to me safely and in a timely manner. Her role wasn’t asked for—it was given out of pure friendship. Her consistency and dependability quietly reinforced the values of responsibility, kindness, and service in our sisterhood. After Accra Girls’ came Swedru Secondary School—my first real academic and social experience away from Accra and everything familiar. Being outside the city shaped me in new ways. Swedru was quieter but deeper, a place of introspection, maturity, and a different kind of connection. Here, I found a new tribe—Faustina Larbi, Shirley Quaicoo, and Juliet, of blessed memory. These young women carried me through that phase with love, sacrifice, and unwavering friendship. Amid all these adventures and learning moments, family remained my anchor. “ 12 The Birthday Journal
Faustina and I were inseparable— our provisions were shared without a second thought, and we were often seen together like twins bonded by mutual trust and understanding. Our friendship continued beyond the confines of Swedru Secondary School. Juliet, my dear “konkonsa” and chilling mate, filled my days with hearty laughter and my holidays with thrilling plans. Her untimely passing remains a deep void, but her memory lives on in the joy she brought to those years. Shirley and her family embraced me as one of their own, opening their doors during holidays and giving me a place that felt like home. Their generosity and warmth were lessons in unconditional support. Additionally, my girlfriends Afia Sarpong and Abena Frimpong made my A ‘Level years even more special. They opened their homes to me and gifted me the experience of taking holidays with friends. At Afia’s home, we were treated like royalty—her father, may his soul continue to rest in perfect peace, pampered us like true “dadabes.” There was always laughter, love, and a sense of being seen and valued. Abena also followed suit with her warm hospitality in Swedru. She would host us and treat us like sisters, making us feel completely at home. These were moments that gave me a true sense of belonging, and they remain among the most cherished memories of my teenage years. It was in these school years that I began forming thoughts around my future—about university, career, and the kind of woman I wanted to become. But beyond academics and friendship, I was also learning about relationships with my boyfriends—George, Nicholas (aka Amadan), Nathaniel, Ken Acquaye, and Ascona. Each of them, in their own way, helped shape my understanding of relationships. They weren’t just boyfriends; they were my early teachers of what it meant to communicate, to be seen, to be respected. Then there were my school fathers— Raymond, Barnett (aka Tospino), and Panat—who played protective, grounding roles in my adolescent journey. Their My father, in his quiet confidence, entrusted me with marketing and cooking during my teenage years. I didn’t see it as a burden. It was an honour. “ The Birthday Journal 13
presence reminded me that respectful, brotherly relationships with the opposite sex were not only possible but necessary. They served as sounding boards, guides, and a kind of emotional safety net in the often complex social ecosystem of school life. Amid all these adventures and learning moments, family remained my anchor. Our family holiday trips to my hometown, Hohoe, with my father were not just excursions—they were silent initiations into my roots. I remember vividly how those trips sparked a deep appreciation for where I came from. They stirred within me a sense of duty to family, community, and culture. It was during one of these visits that I began to form a deep, spiritual bond with my paternal grandmother. Her wisdom, gentle smile, and firm beliefs left a permanent mark on my heart. She gave me a language for resilience, a posture for prayer, and a spirit of humility that has followed me through every stage of my life. And let’s not forget the humble joys of responsibility. My father, in his quiet confidence, entrusted me with marketing and cooking during my teenage years. I didn’t see it as a burden. It was an honour. The excitement of going to the market, selecting ingredients, and coming home to cook for him was one of my first real experiences of service and love through action. I recall one of those moments when I decided to prepare salad for my dad and ended up cooking the lettuce. I tasted it afterwards and it was bitter in the mouth. My dad laughed and told me it was not meant to be cooked, based on what he had been served with at other places. We both laughed it off, but that was a very good lesson learnt. It taught me to be dependable, resourceful, and, most of all, that the smallest acts of care often carry the deepest meanings. As I reflect on this chapter of my life from the vantage point of 50 years, I see a mosaic made up of laughter in dormitories, secrets whispered under bunk beds, walks with friends, handwritten letters passed in class, early crushes, deep losses, and unforgettable joys. These were the years that sculpted my identity. They may not have been documented on camera or journalled every day, but they are etched in my soul. This was the season where my roots went deep—into friendship, family, responsibility, and a deepening sense of purpose. It’s where I learned not only who I was, but also who I was becoming. And for that, I remain forever grateful. 14 The Birthday Journal
It is not what we remember, but how we remember it, that shapes who we become. “ 15 The Birthday Journal
After the brochure was designed and printed, Lawrence just wouldn’t stop calling. I told him, “Look, we’re done, nothing left to talk about.” But he came right back with, “I want to be your friend.” I laughed and said, “Aren’t we already?” Still, he kept popping up — calling, checking in, even showing up at my house, where I lived with my dad. Persistent, that one. At the time, he lived in Korle Bu with his mum, who was then DDNS at Korle-Bu Teaching Hospital. “Sometimes, the journey to who we are is found in the hustle, the heartbreak, the near misses, and the miracles.” C H A P T E R 3 becomi 16 The Birthday Journal
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Things got serious. He met my sisters; I met his friends. One of them, Von—who later became our best man—told me, “Enzo says this is his last stop.” I laughed and said, “That means he’s brought someone here before!” Von smiled, “He’s serious now. He’s not that guy anymore.” That stayed with me. Then he introduced me to his family – his uncle, Nana Akyea Afari III (the late Dawuhene), his mum, sister, and cousin – Boss Larry. What drew me to him was his courage. I recall an ex-boyfriend somehow got his number and texted him, warning him to stay away from “his girlfriend.” He even threatened him. Lawrence simply replied, “If you’re a man, meet me here.” The guy never showed up. Over the years, my admiration for him has only deepened. I admire his judgement and selflessness. He gives perspective without ever imposing. And with my job taking me away for nearly eight years, he held everything down at home. I deeply respect him for that. Our wedding day at Christ the King Church was somewhat chaotic. Without a planner or much help, it was just the two of us scrambling the night before to get everything done. At one point, we were stopped by military police for speeding. I was about to invoke my dad’s name, but Lawrence gently signalled me to hold back and calmly said, “Let me handle it.” We walked into our big day completely drained—but we made it. And by God’s grace, we’re still making it. If the ages of 13 to 21 were about planting roots, then 21 to 30 were about stretching those roots into every inch of my soul—testing, proving, and refining the woman I was becoming. This was the decade that taught me about persistence, purpose, and the mysterious orchestration of divine timing. After completing my sixth form, I gained admission to the University of Ghana, where I pursued a Bachelor of Arts in English with Psychology. It was a proud moment—but far from an easy one. Life didn’t roll out the red carpet. I had to juggle academics with work to stay afloat, often walking the tightrope between financial need and educational ambition. But in that juggling act, I found a rhythm. I found strength I didn’t know I had. My childhood friend, Michelle Hughton, offered what turned out to be a life-changing opportunity. She told me about an opening for a Teaching Assistant at Ghana International School (GIS), where she was working at the time. I applied, got the position, and began what would become a three-year journey of growth, exposure, and invaluable experience. Working at GIS was my first introduction to the world of work, and oh, what an enriching journey it was! I was exposed to multiculturalism in its purest form. My class teachers were Indian, and through them, I was introduced to the rich traditions of Diwali and Indian culture. It was here that I learned how vibrant and diverse the world could be. Every child I worked with, every classroom interaction, every cultural day was a new window into patience, truthfulness, and responsibility. I wasn’t just working—I was evolving. My time at GIS also gifted me some friends. People like Ricky Osei-Owusu, Michael, and the ever-inspiring Anita Erskine made the journey fulfilling. At the University of Ghana, the bonds I built extended beyond work into friendships that would carry me through university and life. Maud Eshun, Anita Lumor, Linda Ausekere and a special circle of men—Thomas Woanya, Derek Oppong, and Ato Wilberforce—were my constant support system through the university years. They were my tribe, and they still are. 18 The Birthday Journal
Then came National Service—a mandatory oneyear period that many approach with mixed feelings. I, however, embraced it with open arms, choosing to serve in the Volta Region, specifically my beloved hometown, Hohoe. It was one of the best decisions I ever made. Not only did I get to reconnect with my roots, but I also had the beautiful responsibility of taking care of my grandmother. Weekends became our sacred time together. I would bathe her, dress her, and then we would sit on the porch of my father’s house—she in her regal silence, me in awe of the stories written in her eyes. Though she spoke sparingly due to her age, those moments were pure gold. I also had the chance to connect with my grandfather, grandaunties, uncles, aunties, and cousins—all on my paternal side. It was a full-circle moment that deepened my understanding of who I was and where I came from. Following this, I was blessed with the opportunity to begin my professional career in the corporate world. I secured a job as a Customer Service Adviser with the then Barclays Bank. This role was more than employment—it was a masterclass in leadership, discipline, and character. Each day in that banking hall presented new challenges, but with them came immense growth. God, in His mercy, positioned me under the guidance of some of the most impactful mentors I’ve known—T.K., Mr Kwesi Mante, Mrs Gwendolyn Gyaben, Deborah Yeboah, Aunty Aggie, and Comfort Dodoo (“C”). These remarkable individuals poured into me the virtues of hard work, dedication, respect, and love. They didn’t just prepare me for the demands of the banking industry—they helped form the ethical compass I would carry throughout my life. At Barclays, I also formed another cherished tribe—my first workplace girlfriends and boyfriends who would become lasting friends: Adobea Koranteng, Pearl Afenyo (Trace-Trasash), Joyce Bampo, Benjamin Twum, and Douglas Boakye-Yiadom. Together, we shared deadlines, lunch, career dreams, and unforgettable laughter. They made the workplace feel like home. But life, as I was learning, was not only about the beauty—it also carried shocks that would forever reshape my soul. On 6th June 2000, I was involved in the Airlink Fokker 27 plane crash. What had begun as an adventurous trip to the North turned into one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. Six lives were lost. By what I now know was divine intervention, I had switched my seat—and the person who sat there ended up losing both legs. That could have been me. That should have been me. But God said no. That experience changed me. Life is fleeting—a truth I had always heard but now felt in the deepest parts of my being. I emerged from that wreck not just alive but awakened. In the aftermath, while the physical wounds began to heal, the emotional reckoning came in waves. In those quiet, reflective weeks after the crash, as I pieced together what could have been my last day, a deeper truth surfaced: sometimes, God saves you not just from death—but from the things you were never meant to die for. Life is fleeting—a truth I had always heard but now felt in the deepest parts of my being. I emerged from that wreck not just alive but awakened. “ The Birthday Journal 19
And then, the divine hand of destiny struck again—this time, through a wedding invitation. Brigadier-General Benjamin Amoah-Boakye, my “big brother” from another mother, lived across from us at Burma Camp, and invited me to his wedding. It was a beautiful event, but one of the highlights of the wedding that captivated me most was the elegant wedding programme brochure. I was so moved by its design and quality that I kept it as a keepsake, not knowing that it was my future calling. Years later, my dear friend Maud Eshun assigned me the responsibility of handling the brochure for her wedding. I contacted the designer behind that memorable programme— and as fate would have it, he would become my husband. That connection led not just to another beautifully printed brochure, but to a lifetime of companionship, love, and shared purpose. As I approached the age of 30, I entered motherhood. We welcomed our first daughter, and with her came both unspeakable joy and a fierce battle. Her birth was complicated by a retained placenta, undetected for one whole week. It was a close call. My body was weak, and the danger was real. But again, God’s mercy said no. I was preserved—not just for my family, but for the purpose yet to be fulfilled. This decade—my twenties—was a whirlwind. Of learning. Of loss. Of love. Of life. It gave me my first payslip. It introduced me to the world of work and the call of motherhood. It brought me face to face with death and then placed me gently back into life. It reconnected me with my past and launched me into my future. If ever I doubted that my steps were ordered by a divine hand, this phase of my life erased all uncertainty. I didn’t just survive. I became. And for all of it, I am deeply, eternally grateful. This decade—my twenties—was a whirlwind. Of learning. Of loss. Of love. Of life. It gave me my first payslip. It introduced me to the world of work and the call of motherhood. It brought me face to face with death and then placed me gently back into life. It reconnected me with my past and launched me into my future. “ 20 The Birthday Journal
Sometimes, the journey to who we are is found in the hustle, the heartbreak, the near misses, and the miracles. “ The Birthday Journal 21
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Ipumped my hands in victory when I received my Letter of Appointment. My mind flashed back to the rigorous interview process we had endured, and I felt genuinely proud to be among those selected. It was a big moment—the beginning of something new. After some years in banking, I had taken a bold step—to the British High Commission, where I joined as a Service Delivery Manager. It was a completely different environment and, in many ways, a fresh start. But more importantly, it opened a door I hadn’t even realised I needed. That’s where my journey into Human Resources (HR) quietly began. I was nominated as the Learning and Development Champion, and that role changed everything. Suddenly, I was drawn into the people side of the organisation—engaging with learning systems, development pathways, employee engagement, and policy work. I realised that while I enjoyed service delivery, my heart was in something deeper: helping people grow, and shaping how organisations support their people. That’s when I knew—I was meant for HR. Through the Fire Flow and the C H A P T E R 4 “Some storms don’t come to destroy you. They come to reveal who walks with you.” The Birthday Journal 23
My thirties were a paradox—filled with joy, grief, challenges, breakthroughs, and the most intimate encounters with God’s sustaining grace. It was a phase of life that pulled no punches but also gave no shortage of miracles. At the very heart of it, I experienced both the beauty of new beginnings and the sting of setbacks—but through it all, I was being refined, reshaped, and realigned. This decade brought the birth of two more children, expanding our family and deepening my experience of motherhood—but not without its share of pain. In between those two beautiful births, I suffered a miscarriage—a silent loss that etched itself into my soul. It’s hard to explain the grief that follows a life never fully lived, yet so deeply felt. I wept, I prayed, and I healed slowly. Then came the birth of my third child, and with it, another trial.What should have been amoment of celebration quickly turned into a life-threatening emergency. My uterus failed to contract after delivery, and I began to haemorrhage heavily. My blood level dropped to a critical 5. I remember the haze, the helplessness, and the strange calm that sometimes comes amid chaos. Before I had gone into labour, I’d asked my husband to stay with me for a while after being induced. Neither of us knew that his presence at that exact moment would become the divine intervention that helped the medical team act swiftly to save my life. God was, once again, on duty—doing what He does best: preserving me, even when I was on the edge. But the testings of this phase weren’t just physical. This was also a time of significant career transformation. I had built a solid path in banking and foreign services, but deep inside, I felt a pull—an urge to pivot. And so, with trembling hands but a firm heart, I made the bold decision to transition into Human Resources. It wasn’t just a careermove; it was a calling—a space where I could nurture, advocate, structure, and influence. It was new territory, but one that eventually felt like home. Along the way, I worked with incredible individuals who shaped and strengthened me—Charlotte Kissiedu, Antoinette Hoedoafia, Anthony Adu-Broni, Amarkwei, Mubarak, Eugenia, Asab (may her soul continue to rest in perfect peace), Pearl Pianim, Claudine Kore, Vivian, Leticia, Anna, Papa Rhay, and my own Tugbefia, Horla Dei-Tutu. These weren’t just colleagues—they were companions in a journey of reinvention. They brought colour to my days, insight to my decisions, and laughter to the hard moments. In marriage, I also gained new brothers and sisters— beautiful souls who became family through my union with my husband. Mr & Mrs Von Backustein, Rev & Mrs Adiamah, Mr & Dr Mrs Atiase, Mr &Mrs Addo, TetteyWatson, Allen and Ellen—each one has, in their 24 The Birthday Journal
own way, redefined what true friendship looks like. Some of these people became my fallbacks—those I could lean on for clarity, counsel, or simply comfort. In a world that often pulls people apart, these ones helped hold me together. And yet, amid the career milestones and the bonds of friendship, my marriage faced its own storms. They were real, raw, and at times, overwhelming. But God, in His mercy, did not let me walk that valley alone. Sis Eleanor, Sis Wendy, Sis Cassandra, and Sis Yacoba were spiritual warriors and wise counsellors—standing in the gap for me when I was too tired to pray, too weary to hope. My bestie, Chatte, and my “sisters”, Mrs Audrey Adiamah and Rev Ellen Mensimah Turkson, became my anchors—reminding me of who I was when I felt most fragile. Looking back, this phase of my life was not without deep trials and transitions. It was one of the turbulent seasons I have lived through—filled with emotional tests, physical challenges, and moments of spiritual wrestling. And yet, in the midst of it all, I was being spiritually conditioned, emotionally stretched, and mentally sharpened. What I didn’t fully realise then was that the resilience being built during these years would become my armour in the years to come. This chapter taught me that strength isn’t about never breaking down—it’s about rising back up, again and again, because love, faith, and hope still remain. I entered my forties not unscathed, but undeniably wiser, deeper, and closer to God than I’d ever been. And for every tear, every battle, every answered prayer—I remain thankful. And yet, amid the career milestones and the bonds of friendship, my marriage faced its own storms. They were real, raw, and at times, overwhelming. But God, in His mercy, did not let me walk that valley alone. “ The Birthday Journal 25
I went during my lunch break—rushed, a little anxious, but told no one. I dashed down from North Kaneshie to Korle-Bu to pick up my results. I told myself it was routine. Just a quick stop. In and out. When I arrived, the doctors didn’t get straight to the point. Instead, one asked gently, “How many children do you have?” That question caught me off guard. Why did it matter? Then they asked if they could pray. That’s when I knew. Something was wrong. Deeply wrong. C H A P T E R 5 grace Carried Me “If you don’t know my story, you won’t understand my praise.” 26 The Birthday Journal
27 The Birthday Journal
As their words landed, everything around me blurred. The noise in the room faded. My body was there, but my spirit drifted, hovering somewhere between shock and surrender. I left the hospital carrying a storm inside me. They say life begins at 40—but for me, life at 41 came with a different kind of beginning. It was a rude awakening—an entry into a battle I didn’t see coming. That year, I was diagnosed with Paget’s disease, a rare form of breast cancer. Nothing prepares you for that kind of news. It was as though my world, once firm beneath my feet, gave way all at once. The drive from Korle-Bu to my office took about 25 to 30 minutes, but that day, it felt like a lifetime. I sat in the back seat of the taxi, tears streaming uncontrollably. The driver kept asking what was wrong, gently begging me to stop crying. But it wasn’t just crying—it was soul-deep weeping, the kind that comes from fear, shock, confusion and helplessness all crashing in at once. When I got to the office, my Head of Department, Jacqueline Rugayo, and my supervisor, Christie, were there for me, encouraging me to stay strong and trust that God would heal me. Stephen and Josephine, my colleagues, didn’t just offer words—they prayed with me, standing in faith when I could barely stand on my own. I remember the weight of having to tell my husband. I broke the news to him through trembling words and held my breath as he tried to process it. But what haunted me even more was how I would tell my mother and brother. That’s when my uncle, Dr Thomas Agbemaple— who has been an angel in my life since childhood—stepped in. He made the call to break the news to my mother. Shortly after the call ended, my mum phoned me. She was crying… until suddenly, she wasn’t. Her tears stopped midstream and, in a tone filled with faith, she declared, “God is in control, and He is our only source of hope.” That declaration pierced my heart. I began to cry again, but she gently told me to stop—that we would overcome. And from that moment on, something shifted. My brother got to know, and my husband carried the burden of informing our children and his family. Reality caught up with me fast. I had to brace myself for a full year of chemotherapy. It wasn’t an easy decision, but there was no time to hesitate. I was referred to Dr Josephine Nsaful, one of the angels God sent my way. Her steady hands, coupled with the medical team’s care, led to a successful surgery, and for that, I give God all the glory. The treatment phase that followed was intense— physically, emotionally, and financially. It was expensive and daunting. But once again, God stepped in through the kindness of people. Dr Frances Noble Nkrumah, another God-send, fought relentlessly to get the company I worked for to cover the first six months of treatment. The entire sum was paid through a one-off cheque issued directly to the hospital. It was a miracle. For the remaining six months, my faith in God’s provision never wavered. And true to His nature, He came through. Bro. Mike, husband of Sis. Eleanor, raised funds through his school’s year group. Mercy Ampah, my schoolmate, also rallied support through our school alumni. Mr and Mrs Bility, friends I made through work, contributed generously. Sis. Phil, older sister to Sis. Eleanor, sent help from the U.S., and my dearest Maud— my friend-sister—also raised funds to support. Each of these acts of love was a lifeline. God’s goodness during this phase was unimaginable. Yet not all battles were fought in hospital wards. Marital challenges reared their head again during this season. There were moments I felt like a stranger in my own home, moments I wanted to give up—not just on treatment, but on everything. But I had a praying mother, and a host of faithful friends who saw firsthand the silent battles I was facing and offered unwavering support, standing in the gap for me. This phase also matured me spiritually. It wasn’t just about surviving—it was about surrendering. I developed a deep, personal relationship with my Maker. Not one built solely on routine prayer or Sunday worship, but on raw, unfiltered communion. I learned to lean on God, not just for healing but for clarity, strength and peace. And see how God works—He sent people into my life, new vessels of His love, who showed me another level of kindness. Some came through work, others through my children’s connections, but each one was intentional, timely and divinely placed. Henry Amoako, Wilfred Haruna, Frank Twum-Barimah, Paul Twum-Barimah, Susana Akuba Ndede, Mrs Rebecca Whittal and Junice Pianim—each of them offered help in ways that still humble me. Whether it was a prayer, a call, encouragement or quiet support, they became part of the army God used to carry me through. Through all these challenges, my family remained a constant anchor—especially my mother, my brother and my husband. Their love held me up 28 The Birthday Journal
when I didn’t have the strength to stand. They believed, they stayed, and they prayed. I now understand what it means to be assured by the words: “The Lord watches over His own,” because I am living proof. As Psalm 121:7–8 declares: “The Lord will keep you from all harm—He will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.” And Isaiah 41:10 reminds me: “So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” God unveiled in me a new dimension of wisdom and fortitude in this phase. I saw Him guide my decisions, reorder my priorities, and refine my heart. He has taught me how to wait, how to listen, and how to let go. He has walked with me through fire and never let me be consumed. And so here I am at 50—not just a number, but a spiritual milestone. A testimony of grace, grit, and God’s unrelenting goodness. To Him alone be all glory. Mawu, Akpe na wo! And see how God works—He sent people into my life, new vessels of His love, who showed me another level of kindness. Some came through work, others through my children’s connections, but each one was intentional, timely and divinely placed. “ The Birthday Journal 29
Gratitude Wall “When we express gratitude, we open the door for grace to abound.” To My Husband – My Hon Thank you for the experiences, the lessons, and the journey we’ve shared through marriage. The highs and lows have helped shape me into the woman I am today. Continue to lead, and I will follow. God bless you, Hon, for all the ways you’ve contributed to my growth and resilience. Your support in parenting our children has been invaluable—whether through presence, guidance, or silent sacrifice. Together, we’ve planted seeds of love, faith, and legacy in our children, and I’m grateful to have done that with you. As we look to the future, may our union be continually refined by God’s grace. May we dream new dreams, build new memories, and remain each other’s safe place as we grow old together. To more shared laughter, fulfilled promises, and purposeful years ahead by God’s grace. To My Brother – Charles Nutsu, the Lord will continue to be your anchor. You’ve been my defender, my cheerleader, and my safe place. You gave me the gift of playing the role of a big sister, one I embraced with joy and gratitude. Thank you for always showing maturity in our discussions, especially when it came to the weighty, topical issues of life. Your confidence in me has been humbling, and I do not take it for granted. I couldn’t have asked for a better brother. Your quiet strength has carried me in more ways than you know. I declare Psalm 32:7 over you – may my God continue to be your hiding place, preserve you from trouble, and always surround you with shouts of deliverance. God bless you richly, my dearest brother. To My Children Thank you for allowing me to grow into motherhood over the years. You didn’t come with manuals, but you taught me how to love unconditionally, to sacrifice silently, and to rejoice deeply. The Bible says in Psalm 127:3: “Children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward.” When I first became a mother, I didn’t know how I would nurture and support God’s vessels entrusted to me. But you gave me grace. You gave me purpose. You gave me the gift of doing life together for the past 21 years. God bless each of you. You are my legacy. To My Father – Lt. Col. (Rtd.) C.J. Adigbo Daddy, thank you for giving me the chance to come into this world. I pray I get to honour you in accordance with God’s Word in Ephesians 6:2–3: “Honour your father and mother”—which is the first commandment with a promise—“so that it may go well with you and that you may enjoy long life on the earth.” God bless you, Daddy. To My Mother – Cecilia Nyakpor Sister, you have been my rock—steady, strong, and sacrificial. There were moments when you stretched far beyond your boundaries just to make sure I was okay. Your daily check-ins, quiet intercessions, and unwavering support cannot be repaid. There’s no greater gift than a mother’s love, and I thank God every day for the gift of you. I honestly don’t know how you do it—but you’ve been super awesome throughout my journey. Thank you, Sister, for instilling in me the virtues of womanhood—patience, kindness, hard work, and love. I’ve come this far because I stood on your shoulders, just as Sir Isaac Newton once said: “If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” You are that giant. Norny3, Akpe na wo! 30 The Birthday Journal
To My Stepmother – Mrs Eileen Cecilia Adigbo Mummy, thank you for playing such a significant role in my educational journey. Because of you, I had the opportunity to attend Accra Girls’ Secondary School and Swedru Secondary School. Thank you for planting in me the values of focus, discipline, and determination. May God bless and keep you always. To My Guardian Uncles – UncoGa & Uncovi Thank you for nurturing me, guiding me, and supporting me during my formative years. You were firm, loving, and present. God bless you both for the foundation you helped build in my life. I declare Numbers 6:24–26 upon you and your household: “The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make his face shine on you and be gracious to you; the LORD turn his face toward you and give you peace.” God bless you both. To My Ever-Present Uncle – Dr Agbemaple Uncle Thom, your path will continue to shine brighter, just as Proverbs 4:18 declares: “The path of the righteous is like the morning sun, shining ever brighter till the full light of day.” You have been my angel on earth from childhood—always showing up, always standing in. Your kind is rare, and I continue to pray that I meet you halfway in giving back a fraction of what you’ve poured into my life. God bless you deeply. To My Uncle – Mr Victor Adigbo Uncle Victor, thank you for stepping in as a father on my wedding day. Your presence meant everything. You didn’t just stand in—you stood tall, with grace and love. Alongside Aunty Doris (of blessed memory), your counsel to my husband and me shaped our early years of marriage in ways we still carry. You’ve remained a steady support throughout my adult life, always showing up with wisdom and kindness. God bless you deeply for being such a strong anchor in my journey. To My Siblings – Bro Johnny, Richard, Sena, Kafui, Abena Gogo, Junior, Nana Akua & Louisa Though we came from different mothers, our father gave us sharedmoments I’ll always cherish. Each of you added something unique to my life—through laughter, love, or simple presence. Whether near or far, you’ve been part of my foundation, the ones who remind me where I come from and who I am. Thank you for embracing me as your own and for the memories we built together. You remind me that family is not about perfection but about showing up. I’m grateful for you all. To Rozo, Aunti Didis, Aunti Mansa & Frankie You form part of the family that shaped the heart behind my smile. Thank you for the laughter, the memories, and the quiet ways you’ve always been there. I’m deeply grateful for your love and presence and will carry you in my heart always. To Grandma Vic & Sis Abena Thank you for welcoming me as a member of your family. Your love, support, and prayers have been a quiet blessing through every season. I’m grateful for the memories we’ve built together. To Mr & Mrs Larry Auguste Your guidance and support have been wrapped in pure love from the very beginning Lawrence brought me to your home. You embraced me, covered me, and stood with me with grace and wisdom. God bless you both abundantly. Thank you for being more than in-laws—thank you for being family. To Sweetie Thank you for taking me in when the going got tough. You provided shelter not just in the physical sense, but emotionally too. May God bless you for your kindness and generosity. To My Tribe - Sis Eleanor, Sis Becky, Sis Wendy, Chatte, Akuba, Kwame, Ellen, and Junice Each of you has shown up in powerful ways; whether through prayer, presence, or practical support. Family isn’t always blood—it's who stands with you when the world goes silent. Thank you for walking with me, standing for me, and believing in me during each season our paths crossed. You made life’s load lighter and my heart fuller. 31 The Birthday Journal
Dear Me, If you’re reading these years from now, take a moment to breathe. Close your eyes and remember how far you’ve come. Remember the laughter, the tears, the quiet moments of surrender, and the thunderous moments of triumph. You didn’t just live—you endured, evolved, and impacted. There were seasons when you walked through fire—but never alone. You were held, covered, and carried by grace. You faced battles that tried to steal your joy, and you still chose love. You bore burdens that could have broken you, but you chose to rise. If ever you feel weary again, let these pages remind you of the woman who defied the odds. Let them remind you of the girl who cooked for others at 10, the young woman who juggled school and work, the mother who battled illness with courage, and the wife, sister, daughter, and friend who kept going. So, hold your head high. You’ve earned every line, every scar, every stripe of wisdom. Never forget: You are proof that God preserves, promotes, and provides. With love, Enyonam – It is well with me. To My Future Self To Those Reading My Story C L O S I N G R E F L E C T I O N S Dear Reader, Thank you for walking with me through the corridors of my life. Thank you for turning these pages, pausing in the laughter, and breathing through the hard parts. This is more than a life story—this is a testimony of God’s faithfulness and a gentle reminder that we are never alone, no matter how dark the valley or long the journey. If you’re going through a storm right now, I hope my story reminds you that pain has purpose and that healing does come. If you feel unseen, know that God sees you, just as He saw me. If you’ve made mistakes, know that grace is still available. And if you’re doing well, may you be inspired to extend kindness to others as many did for me. My hope is that these words bless you, strengthen you, and stir something in you—whether it’s faith, courage, or a simple smile. To God alone be all the glory. Mawu, Akpe na wo! (God, thank You!) With love, Mrs. Jemima Brown Afari née Adigbo 32 The Birthday Journal
We can only see far because we stand on the shoulders of giants. My sister has been a giant throughout my life—my shield, my protector, my defender, my cheerleader. Ever since I was born, I have had a big sister who has been willing to sacrifice everything to make sure her small brother is okay, no matter the cost to herself. She selflessly sacrificed so I can have all the space and opportunities to become the best I can be—not because of anything for herself, but because she believed her small brother was the best. It is that belief that made me start to believe in myself and driven me to how far I have reached and keep reaching. There are two stories I will use to illustrate. The first is when I went to Achimota School for my senior secondary. I was assigned to Livingstone House. My sister went into a boys’ boarding house, looked for a bed for me, laid it, put my chop and trunk under it, and found a school father for me. More funny was she used to come for my dirty clothes to wash from home while I was washing seniors’ clothes. She did the same for my university at KNUST in Kumasi. The second story I will mention is after my university and when I had just found my first job and was trying to find my feet. I would go almost every weekend to my newly married sister’s house from Saturday night, and every time I was going back home, my food package and a fresh bundle of notes were placed in my hands to support me through the week, even though she barely had anything herself. My sister created the space for me to reach my potential despite the many misadventures I have had. She shielded me and believed in me till I could start walking and running along my path to success. All this despite her own challenges, her own struggles, her own hardships. She always gave of her best to me and all those dear to me—not because she had to, but because she willingly, selflessly wanted to, without expecting anything back but my success and happiness. On this, her Golden Jubilee, I wish to thank God for her life—for giving me and all of us such a selfless, caring, strong, hardworking woman of courage, strength, virtue, fortitude, resilience, compassion, love, and greatness. We celebrate you, Nyonu, and we can never thank you enough for all you have done for us. Enjoy your day, Nyonu CHARLES 33 The Birthday Journal
Love Served from Jemima’s Kitchen of Life Mum reflects with pride: “Let’s be honest — if you know Jemima, whom I affectionately call ‘Amonor,’ meaning ‘People’s Mother,’ you’ve probably eaten her food. And not just once or twice. Because Jemima doesn’t just cook. She feeds. She fusses. She freezes. She packs takeaways with love. Her kitchen is her kingdom, and her love language? Definitely jollof, kontomire, and a perfectly spiced light soup. From feeding a whole HR department on a Friday afternoon to cooking and packing meals for her daughter every single school day for years, Jemima has made “Have you eaten?” her signature greeting. At 50, Jemima has stirred, served, and sprinkled love into the lives of many. You don’t just visit Jemima — you leave with a full belly and a heart that feels a little warmer. And that’s what we’re celebrating — a woman whose pots have never run dry and whose love feeds far beyond the table. As her mum lovingly recalls: “From the very beginning, your love language has been food.” As a toddler in the kitchen, you were my quiet shadow. You didn’t ask many questions — you simply watched, absorbing everything like a little sponge. I honestly don’t even know when or how you learned it all, but somehow, you did — and today, you cook even better than I do. I still remember when you were about eight years old and I had to travel to Lomé. What was meant to be a quick trip stretched on for a few days, and I came back home anxious, but you had handled the house like a little woman—cooked, cleaned, fed your brother and the other children. I just laughed and said, “This is Jem’s Restaurant!” That spirit of service has never left you. You still cook with the same love and excellence. Your father’s freezer is always stocked because of you. You send him light soup, kontomire, okro stew, garden egg stew—everything, neatly portioned and labelled. You make sure he has fruits and snacks too. You’ve never once said, “He has a wife.” No. You honour him in this quiet, consistent way—and it humbles me. And you do the same for me. Every time I visit, I go home with bags full of food. You don’t let me leave empty-handed. You just say, “Follow me,” and next thing I know, you're packing and packing. You don’t do it for show—you do it from your heart. I’ve seen you remain generous, even in your lowest seasons. Whether it was after that plane crash or during your cancer treatment, you never stopped giving. You never let your pain turn you inward. You have grace, Jemima. The kind that cannot be taught. I am so proud of the woman you’ve become. You love deeply, you serve quietly, and you always, always feed those around you—with your hands, your heart, and your presence. May God bless you with long life, good health, and joy. May you live to enjoy the full harvest of all the love and labour you have poured into others. And may your pot never run dry. Happy 50th, my precious daughter. I love you deeply. 34 The Birthday Journal
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