Five years ago, I began a journey I did not fully understand. Deep within me was a longing, a thirst that neither friends nor family could quite comprehend. Unknown to them, I had already fallen in love with the Invisible, the Divine.

Raised in a simple countryside where little seemed extraordinary, the light of Emmanuel reached me as an ordinary village girl. Drawn by curiosity and love, I followed that light, hoping it would lead me to my calling, to become a religious sister, and it did.

I still remember the day I stepped into the convent, accompanied by my parents. Everything I had hoped for was right before me. Excitement filled my heart, yet it was pierced with sorrow as I watched my parents leave. In that moment, I understood: a boundary had been drawn between me and the world. I was walking away from the world so that I could walk more closely with God.

Formation was not easy. It was a process of being trimmed, molded, broken, and reshaped. The first two years were filled with struggle, my expectations, fears, ambitions, and desires clashed with the reality of a disciplined, structured life. Letting go of my past was painful. Both internal and external battles tested me deeply.

But through prayer, discernment, and accompaniment, something began to change. Slowly, I found peace. I began to belong.

Novitiate opened my eyes to the depth of my vocation. I encountered silence, contemplation, and profound prayer. A 30-day guided retreat, experiences in hospitals, schools, and community life all these deepened my relationship with Emmanuel. I came to understand that the cost of discipleship is love; love expressed through sacrifice, humility, honesty, and detachment.

At one point, I thought religious life was like taking lifelong medication, some moments sweet, others bitter. Yet both are necessary. One cannot live this life without love, service, prayer, sacramental grace, and reconciliation.

Formation shaped not only my vocation but my character. It taught me purpose, responsibility, and the beauty of serving the Church.

Time passed, not quickly, but through perseverance and grace. I never wished to simply finish my novitiate; I desired to be transformed by it.

The day I stood at the altar for my profession was the day my life truly changed. Consecrated to God, I embraced poverty, chastity, and obedience not as burdens, but as a priceless gift. A treasure not given by human hands, but by God Himself.

As I left the novitiate, I looked back and smiled. I knew what those four years had formed in me. Yet I also knew I was only beginning.

Now, two months into active mission, I step into the world as what some call a “Gen Z nun.” I serve in a Catholic bookshop in Murang’a town. Along the streets, whispers follow me: “She is too young to be there.”

In the eyes of the world, I may seem to have nothing, no husband, no children, no wealth, no status. But I do not need to prove anything. I carry a conviction deep within me: I have everything, because I belong to the One who is everything.

One day, at a bus station, a group of teenagers called out to me playfully, “Hello, Sr Gen Z!” I walked up to them, smiled, and looked each one in the eye. We all laughed not because of a joke, but because of something deeper: a shared moment of humanity, of connection, of love. That is my mission. The world is in need of love and I am called to share it. To be compassionate. To serve. To witness.

I love what I do. Because anything done out of love pleases the Heart of Emmanuel. I am an Emmanuel Sister, and if you ask me who gives identity?

It is God, Emmanuel, God with His people the one who gives the truest identity of all.