Hi everyone! ♡

First and foremost, I thank you for being here. I am Ya’el Yasha, a 29-year-old who recently immigrated to Michigan, USA, from a small European country called the Netherlands. Love, family, and, above all, my faith in The Most High Yah have brought me here to be among like-minded individuals, where I am part of an assembly that I deeply love and hold near and dear to my heart.

Today, I will be sharing a vulnerable piece of myself that has been buried for over a decade. Let’s go back in time together so I can tell you my story.

It all started fourteen years ago when my teenage world was turned upside down after I became severely ill. What began as a severe gut disease (Crohn’s disease) left me bedridden, hardly able to move due to lack of energy, and barely able to eat because of the pain and the constant nausea. It led to a cycle of hospital visits. I was severely sick, and no medication—ranging from infleximab infusions to Humira injections— (just to name a few) was helping me. My condition didn’t improve; on the contrary, it only got worse.

My body literally started to shut down until it could no longer carry itself. After five months of clinical therapy based on a misdiagnosis of Conversion Disorder at the age of 20, I was left confused, not understanding why others were improving while I was declining. I had always been someone who would push through difficult situations. This is suppose to help me get better right? But they were wrong. I ended up permanently in a wheelchair, exhausted in a way I still cannot fully express in words. When I returned home, it was as though my body had surrendered to something it had been desperately signaling for. I became completely bedridden. My system shut down, and even the slightest bit of light, sound, or touch would overwhelm me with pain and exhaustion, both physically and mentally. No one could tell me what I was going through or what was happening to my body. What was this condition that prevented me from feeding myself or even drinking a sip of water? Why did I need to be dragged on a blanket or physically carried to the bathroom? What was this exhaustion that made it impossible for me to speak more than a sentence or move my arms or legs? Why were my symptoms worsening with physical or mental activity but not improving when I rested?

We reached at the "There is nothing we can do for your daughter anymore ma'am." point of our search for help.

After countless resistant doctors, there was only one who helped— a doctor in the Netherlands, all the way in Amsterdam, two and a half hours from where we lived. This doctor specialized in Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (ME). He confirmed, “Your daughter has extremely severe Myalgic Encephalomyelitis, PEM (post-exertional malaise), POTS, and fibromyalgia.” I remember lying on the small hospital bed that I was carried in on from the ambulance, with my headphones to dampen the sounds and my eyes covered with a headwrap, not even knowing what the doctor looked like. I only remember his voice—a man of compassion and empathy. Finally, compassion… empathy. I will be forever grateful to Yah for this person.

Many long years in a dark room followed, but during this darkness, I found a glimmer of light that I was ready to embrace. I discovered a supernatural strength to hold on to. Not long after, Yah revealed Himself and His son Yahusha to me, He led me to an assembly that now goes by the name: Reset the Frequency. Here, I was embraced with open arms. I can sincerely say that my health slowly began to improve as I shared my story, and the shepherds of the flock—El-Chanok and El-Ahavah Ezra Sarah—prayed and interceded on my behalf. I remember the first time after more than four years when I was able to walk outside into the backyard, where the colors and sounds of spring overwhelmed me. Those five minutes remain one of the most memorable and impactful moments of my 29 years of life, though I wasn’t fully healed yet. I longed deeply to be among my spiritual family, but I had to be patient. After 3.5 years of complete trust and faith, my sister and I flew to the US. The amount of healing I’ve received through the laying on of hands, the knowledge of ancient medicine women and healers using herbs and set-apart diets, and the emotional healing through love and support—where people literally carried me in their arms and on their backs—is a testament to the divine power of Yah.

Now, my patience and endurance are still being tested, as my symptoms remain very active. Non-epileptic seizures, severe pain in muscles and joints, and extreme exhaustion are just a few of them. (Please know and consider before advising that, over the last 14 years, we’ve tried everything we could think of.)

Those who know me understand that I am a strong advocate for the natural herbal support of the body and mind. I believe that every passionate herbalist has a story that could fill an endless book—one that does not diminish their calling as a herbalist but rather serves as the first foundation for it.

I believe that plants are little helpers gifted by Yah, each holding ancient knowledge and healing abilities.

However, as I humble myself, I acknowledge the need for modern medicine when necessary. Since I have been considered “disabled” since the age of 15, I have not been able to work or hold a job. I recently moved to Michigan, USA, and I am not yet in a position to hold a physical job. I need help.

A dear loved one encouraged me to start a fundraiser. “Your story needs to be shared, and I know others will want to help you.”

I want to openly acknowledge the leaders of our family and assembly at Reset the Frequency. They have been selflessly serving others above themselves, and they have already donated $20,000 toward the treatment goal. This leaves us with a goal of $50,000.

My sincerest request is that, when you are moved, you contribute whatever you can spare. Please know that behind every donation is not only deep gratitude but also hope for restoration beyond my story. You all do not go unnoticed and are highly appreciated!

With love,

Ya’el Yasha