THAT I AM

Do you think God might somehow bring these two back together again? Or are some people just meant to live a holy life without a partner at all?
(Cecelia Story)

Dropping this week.

2 weeks ago | [YT] | 99

THAT I AM

Yello!!!

I know this isn’t what you guys were expecting… especially with Part 4 still pending.

The device that had the work-in-progress files developed a fault, but I didn’t want to stay stuck because of that. There was already another inspiration waiting to be brought to life… and here it is. ✨

I promise I won’t post the next video until I’ve dropped Part 4 of Cecelia’s story.

In the meantime, enjoy this one. ❤️

3 weeks ago (edited) | [YT] | 42

THAT I AM

CHAPTER 4 — THE DAY EVERYTHING STOPPED

By the third Sunday, Jane almost didn’t go to church.

Not because she was angry with God. Not because she had stopped believing.

She was simply tired.

Faith was still there somewhere inside her, but expectation had faded. She no longer woke up hoping something would change. Life had become a quiet routine of surviving each day without asking too many questions.

That morning, her phone rang while she sat at the edge of her bed staring blankly at the floor.

It was her aunt.

Jane hesitated before answering.

“My daughter, how are you?” her aunt asked warmly.

The question sounded simple, but something about it pierced through the wall Jane had been holding together for weeks.

“I’m fine…” she started to say.

But her voice cracked before she could finish.

Suddenly, everything she had buried deep inside began pouring out.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” she whispered shakily. “I’m trying… I’m really trying… but nothing is working.”

Her aunt stayed silent for a moment and listened carefully without interrupting.

Then she spoke gently.

“Don’t lose your hold on God, even when you don’t understand Him.”

There was a brief pause before she added, “You’re still going to church, right?”

Jane swallowed hard.

“Yes.”

It was a lie.

After the call ended, she sat motionless for a while. Then slowly, she stood up.

“I’ll go today,” she said quietly to herself.

Not because she suddenly felt inspired.

But because she had decided to.

Outside, the London air carried that familiar cold stillness. Cars moved steadily along the streets while people walked with purpose, faces focused on destinations Jane felt she no longer had.

She walked slowly toward church, hands tucked into her coat pockets, her thoughts drifting without direction.

Then she noticed a crowd ahead.

At first it looked small, but as she got closer, she realized more people were gathering around something on the roadside.

The kind of crowd that never gathered for good news.

Jane slowed her steps.

“What happened?” someone asked nearby.

No one answered clearly. Only murmurs floated through the air.

She moved slightly to the side, trying to see past the people standing there.

Then she saw the body.

Still.

Unmoving.

Something about it felt strangely familiar.

Jane stepped closer.

And suddenly her breath caught in her throat.

It was him.

The man from the church gate.

The same man who always smiled and greeted her every Sunday.

“Good morning, Jane. How are you?”

Now he said nothing at all.

Blood stained the edge of the road. A few people spoke quietly about a speeding vehicle that hadn’t stopped. Someone blamed careless driving. Another shook their head in frustration.

But Jane barely heard any of it.

She could only stare.

Around her, people slowly began losing interest. Some stepped away. Others glanced once more before continuing with their day.

Life moved on.

An ambulance arrived minutes later. The workers checked him quickly, exchanged a look, and covered the body.

Gone.

Just like that.

No goodbye.

No final conversation.

No second chance.

Jane felt tears rise silently down her face before she even realized she was crying.

Something inside her had become painfully quiet.

She turned away and continued walking toward church.

The distance suddenly felt longer than usual.

As she walked, one sentence kept replaying in her mind over and over again.

“If I didn’t imprison myself with my own tongue…”

This time, the words didn’t sound mysterious.

They sounded personal.

Jane swallowed hard.

“What did he mean?” she whispered to herself.

Her pace quickened unconsciously, as though reaching church might somehow help her understand everything.

But just before she reached the entrance, she stopped.

And then she broke.

Not quietly.

Not carefully.

Everything she had been holding back finally collapsed at once.

The tears came violently now, mixed with guilt, confusion, and regret she didn’t fully understand.

“I didn’t mean it,” she cried under her breath. “I didn’t mean it like that…”

But nobody answered.

A calm voice suddenly interrupted her thoughts.

“Are you okay?”

Jane wiped her face quickly and nodded too fast.

“Yes… I’m fine.”

But even she could hear how false it sounded.

The man standing beside her didn’t argue. He simply reached into his pocket and handed her a tissue.

Jane hesitated before taking it.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

He studied her face briefly, not intrusively, but carefully.

“You don’t look fine,” he said gently.

Jane forced a tired smile.

“I’ll be okay.”

There was a small pause before he extended his hand slightly.

“I’m Bari.”

Jane looked at him properly for the first time.

There was something calm about him. Steady. Different from the noise she had grown used to around people.

“Jane,” she replied softly.

Without saying much else, they walked into the church together.

Not as friends.

Not as strangers either.

Just two people arriving at the same place from very different moments in life.

The sermon that day was simple and direct.

The pastor stood calmly at the altar and said, “Life and death are in the power of the tongue.”

Jane froze.

The pastor continued speaking quietly, explaining how words shape thoughts, thoughts shape actions, and actions eventually shape outcomes.

He spoke about people who prayed for breakthrough while constantly speaking failure over themselves.

People who asked God for hope while declaring hopelessness every day.

Every sentence landed heavily inside Jane.

Her mind replayed things she had said countless times before.

“Nothing ever works for me.”

“I’m just unlucky.”

“My life is a mess.”

Then the memory returned again.

“Imprisoned with my own tongue.”

Jane sat completely still.

For once, she stopped defending herself internally. She stopped making excuses for her thinking.

She simply listened.

And somewhere deep inside her, something shifted.

Not everything.

But enough.

After the service ended, people slowly began leaving the building in groups, conversations filling the atmosphere again.

Jane remained seated for a few extra minutes before finally standing up.

Outside, Bari was waiting near the entrance.

“Are you okay now?” he asked.

Jane nodded slowly.

This time, she meant it a little more honestly.

“I think so.”

There was a brief silence before she added softly, “Thank you… for earlier.”

Bari smiled slightly.

“You’re welcome.”

They walked together for a short distance, exchanging small conversation about work, names, and ordinary things. Nothing deep. Nothing complicated.

Before they finally parted ways, Bari looked at her and said gently,

“Take care of yourself, Jane.”

Jane nodded.

For the first time in a long while, those words felt necessary.

That night, she sat quietly on her bed with her Bible open beside her.

The room was silent.

She didn’t rush to pray.

Didn’t force words out immediately.

Finally, she spoke softly into the stillness.

“Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable…”

She paused briefly before whispering,

“Teach me how to speak right.”

The room remained quiet.

But this time—

it no longer felt empty.

To be continued…

4 weeks ago | [YT] | 23

THAT I AM

CHAPTER 3 — THE SENTENCE THAT STAYED

By now, Jane had stopped expecting interruption.

Life had settled into a rhythm she no longer questioned.

Wake. Pray. Work. Wait. Disappoint. Repeat.

Every day felt copied from the one before it.

That morning was no different.

She stood in front of the mirror adjusting her coat carefully, preparing herself for another day she already believed would lead nowhere. Her appearance was neat, composed, controlled.

But her eyes betrayed her.

They looked tired in a way sleep could not fix.

“Today won’t be anything special,” she murmured quietly.

Then, almost softening the statement for her own sake, she added with a faint shrug,

“Let’s just manage it.”

Her Bible still lay open on the table behind her.

She glanced at it briefly while reaching for her bag.

“Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength…” — Isaiah 40:31

Jane stared at the verse for a moment.

Then nodded slightly.

“I’m trying.”

And with that, she stepped outside.

The morning air was cold.

And as always—

The man was there.

Same position beside the gate.

Same faded clothes.

Same strange consistency.

The one thing in her mornings that never changed.

The moment he saw her, his face brightened.

“Good morning, Jane! How are you?”

Jane sighed quietly.

Without stopping, she reached into her bag, pulled out some folded notes, and dropped them into his hand.

No eye contact.

No response.

She kept walking.

But this time—

He spoke again.

“Jane.”

Her steps slowed.

Not fully turning.

Just enough to show she heard him.

“I didn’t see you yesterday,” he said gently. “You didn’t give me anything.”

That was enough to crack the thin layer of patience she had been carrying all week.

She turned sharply now.

“I don’t have money every day,” she snapped.

“And honestly—you should find something to do. You can’t just sit here greeting people every morning.”

Silence followed.

Short.

Still.

The man looked at her quietly.

Not angry.

Not embarrassed.

Just steady.

Then he nodded once.

“I won’t blame you.”

He paused briefly.

Then added softly,

“If I didn’t imprison myself with my own tongue… I probably could have been as successful as you.”

Jane frowned immediately.

“What does that even mean?”

But the man didn’t answer.

He simply gave a small nod, turned around, and began walking away slowly.

Jane remained there for a second, watching him disappear into the distance.

Then she shook her head lightly.

“People will just be saying anything…”

And continued on her way.

The Disappearance

The next morning—

He wasn’t there.

Jane noticed immediately, though she pretended not to.

Maybe he found another street corner.

Maybe the weather changed his routine.

She didn’t think much of it.

But the day after—

Still nothing.

By the third morning, her steps unconsciously slowed as she approached the gate.

Her eyes moved toward the usual spot before she could stop herself.

Empty.

She stood there a moment longer than necessary.

Then walked away.

The Space He Left

It took time before she understood what exactly she was feeling.

It wasn’t attachment.

Not really.

It was absence.

Something small—but constant—had quietly disappeared from her life.

And now she could feel the empty space it left behind.

No one greeted her anymore.

No one casually asked,

“How are you?”

Not daily.

Not sincerely.

Not without wanting something in return.

Before, she never valued those greetings.

Because they had always been there.

Now they weren’t.

And somehow, the silence around her felt heavier.

One evening after work, she stopped by a nearby shop to buy groceries.

Bread.

Milk.

Tea.

Then, almost unconsciously, she picked up something extra.

A snack.

Something she would have handed to him.

Her fingers paused around it.

A strange feeling settled in her chest.

She exhaled slowly and returned the item to the shelf.

Subsequently, every morning, part of her quietly hoped she would see him again by the gate.

But she never did.

That night, she sat in front of her laptop, staring blankly at unfinished work.

Words blurred together on the screen.

Her concentration was gone.

Her mind kept drifting backward.

To that morning.

To that sentence.

“Imprisoned… with my own tongue.”

She repeated it softly.

Trying to understand.

“What does that even mean?”

Curiosity finally pushed her to open a browser tab.

Slowly, she typed:

What does it mean to be imprisoned by your own tongue?

Dozens of articles appeared.

Quotes.

Interpretations.

Opinions.

But one idea kept repeating itself again and again:

Words shape reality.

Jane leaned back in her chair thoughtfully.

Could that really be true?

Could someone slowly build a prison simply by repeating the same hopeless words every day?

Her phone buzzed suddenly with notifications, breaking the moment.

Messages.

Noise.

Distractions.

She closed the browser tab almost immediately.

“People just say things,” she muttered.

Then returned to work.

But the sentence stayed.

The next morning, she stepped outside earlier than usual.

Almost intentionally.

Her eyes searched the street more carefully this time.

Still no sign of him.

A slight discomfort settled inside her chest.

“I didn’t mean it like that…”

She whispered quietly to herself.

Then quickly shook her head.

“Why am I even thinking about this?”

And walked away.

Days passed.

Then more days.

No greetings.

No presence.

No interruption.

Life returned fully to itself.

Work remained slow.

Emails remained unanswered.

Bills continued waiting.

And her words—

Remained unchanged.

“Nothing works for me.”

“I don’t even know why I try.”

Sometimes she would pause midway through the sentence—

Almost catching herself.

Almost reconsidering.

Then continue anyway.

“It’s just my reality.”

The Slow Isolation

Gradually, she began staying indoors more.

Not completely.

But enough to notice.

The world outside started feeling exhausting before she even entered it.

Her friend no longer visited like before.

The distance between them had formed quietly.

No argument.

No confrontation.

Just silence growing where closeness used to exist.

Church attendance became inconsistent.

First one Sunday missed.

Then another.

And strangely—

No one called.

No one checked.

No one noticed.

For the first time in a long while, Jane felt it clearly.

She was alone.

Not suddenly.

Not dramatically.

But slowly.

Drift had done what pain could not.

One evening, she sat alone in her room, Bible resting beside her.

She whispered softly into the silence.

“Cast all your anxiety on Him…” — 1 Peter 5:7

She nodded faintly.

Then added in a weaker voice,

“I don’t even know if anything will change.”

The room remained silent.

Still.

Heavy.

But somewhere beyond the silence—

Something else was already moving toward her life.

And this time—

It would interrupt everything.

To be continued…


Join our membership to read part 1 and 2, and subsequent chapters.... ☺️🙏

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4 weeks ago | [YT] | 19

THAT I AM

IT’S FINALLY HERE! 🎉

We’re excited to introduce something special for you…

From now on, you can read each story in written form before the animation is released — chapter by chapter — inside our membership space, along with symbolic scene visuals.

If these stories have inspired you, strengthened your faith, or spoken to your heart, we invite you to support this channel by becoming a member.
God bless you as you do ❤️

Membership Benefits: ✨ Early access to full story chapters
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Let’s grow in faith together.

1 month ago | [YT] | 34

THAT I AM

Hi everyone, welcome to my new YouTube Community. Now you can post on my channel too. To get started, tell me in a post what you'd like to see next on my channel.
Visit my Community: youtube.com/@JoyICallLife/community

1 month ago | [YT] | 17

THAT I AM

Hello, my dear ones ❤️

Thank you for your support, your comments, and for walking this journey with me.

This channel is not just about animation…
It’s about telling real-life stories—stories that reflect our struggles, our fears, our growth… and how God’s word speaks into them.

Every story you watch here is carefully written by me—sometimes inspired by real events, sometimes fictional—but always with one purpose:
to help us see truth, faith, and meaning in our everyday lives.

And because of that… I’ve been wanting something more.

Not just views.
Not just comments.
But a real connection with you.

So I’ve opened my Inner Circle Membership.

Inside this space, something special happens:

Before any story becomes animation,
I release it in written form first.

So you don’t just watch the story…
you experience it early—raw, unfiltered, and deeper.

And that’s not all…

✨ Priority replies to your comments
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✨ And most importantly… a private space where we can truly connect

Not just creator and subscriber…
but real people, sharing, listening, and growing together.

I’ll be there with you—speaking, listening, and sometimes even showing up personally to talk with you.

All of this… for less than $2.

If these stories have ever touched you…
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then this space was created for you.

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You are loved.
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Always.

1 month ago | [YT] | 19