Jama—Jay-muh. Most people called her Mama Jama. I just called her Mom.

She had a way of leaving an impression. Even Oprah Winfrey once mentioned her name in an endorsement for a book. But long before that, and long after, my mom’s impact wasn’t just measured by fame or recognition. It was in the lives she touched, the ones she rescued, and the love she gave so freely.

Today, February 13, 2025, she would have turned 67. But cancer took her 15 months ago—too soon, too fast, too unfair. It still doesn’t feel real.

She lived for something bigger than herself. Providing unconditional love, unconditional service, and a future full of hope wasn’t just her mission—it was who she was. And today, I’m reflecting on the weight of that.

Her Dream

My mom was a rescuer. If something or someone was broken, she ran toward them, not away. She took in abandoned animals, nursed them back to life, gave them a safe place to belong. But it wasn’t just animals—she did the same for people. The forgotten, the struggling, the ones with nowhere to go. She made room for them. She gave them love without conditions. She served without needing recognition, at least not to much(lol). And she always saw hope—even when no one else did.

That was my mom.

Her Fight

She was strong-willed. If she believed something, there was no shaking her conviction. When she knew God had spoken, she stood on it—no matter how impossible it seemed. She wasn’t perfect. She had her flaws, her battles. But I’ve come to realize that when you dream as big as she did, there’s always something to fight through. Always something trying to stop you.

She never let that stop her.

Her Ark

Noah’s Ark was her life’s work—a sanctuary where love and healing weren’t just ideas; they were real. It was a place where animals and people alike could find refuge, safety, and hope.

It was beautiful. It was needed. And then—it was gone. The Ark sank.

Dreams are fragile things.

Noah’s Ark was taken from her, betrayed by those she trusted. The sanctuary crumbled. The animals disappeared. The people drifted away. The dream she built with her whole heart was twisted into something unrecognizable. And in the aftermath of it all, I can’t help but wonder—was this the final wound that took her?

I watched my mom carry the weight of that fight, and I know in my heart it’s what truly took her. Cancer may have been the diagnosis, but the Ark—that was the real wound.

Her Legacy

Even now, with the Ark gone and my mom no longer here, her mission still calls.

Unconditional love. Unconditional service. A future full of hope.

That’s what she lived for, and that’s what I hope to carry forward. To rescue when I can. To love people where they are. To serve even when it’s hard. To believe in hope, even when everything feels lost.

Because if my mom taught me anything, it’s that love doesn’t die. Even when the Ark sinks. Even when dreams seem shattered.

Her dream still lives in me maybe in you. And I pray we can honor it.