To whom this may inspire,
Every second week in June, each year, my husband and I bring our two children
to Hilton Head to vacation. Our family has a condo here and so we come to the
same place and do the same things, always trying to incorporate something new
each year.
Three years ago, I experience a personal crisis. My crisis inevitably brought
pain especially to myself, but to my husband and children as well. My children
are now 7 1/2 and 5. During some of the most emotionally painful weeks, people
who were aware of our situation encouraged us to continue on with our Hilton
Head vacation. At the time, it probably was a perfect distraction. But the pain
in me was so great, the only thing I could think of was to end my life. I was
suffering from unbearable emotional pain and felt there was no end in sight. I
tried to make our annual vacation seem normal for my children. But inside I was
suffering immensely. When we returned home, I was hospitalized for three weeks
in a Psychiatric Hospital.
The reason I have shared this with you is because, for the year following this
experience, I dreaded going back to Hilton Head. But I gave in the next year and
it was so painful because at this point, Hilton Head represented pain, anguish
and heartache for me. It reminded me of my crisis before Hilton Head, during
and after.
This was my second summer of returning to Hilton Head and I felt the twinge of
pain as we traveled south, beginning our annual vacation. The pain I feel
every time we come down is not something my husband understands. He considers
this to be an escape.
As we were into our second week there, we went shopping in a plaza and there is
where we met two of your summer missionaries. At first, I did not see the girls
as they were befriending my husband and children. I was in a store. My son
came running in and told me about _____ and _____. Then my husband came in and
told me about the two or three girls. I thought they were seeking donations.
He told me they were missionaries...I automatically thought "money". I once was
a missionary on the island of Cyprus and Athens, Greece, so I just thought, they
need money.
As I approached the girls, I could see the presence of Jesus. It almost brought
me to my knees. I was fighting back tears as I was listening to their little
stereo playing Christian music. They had painted my daughter's face several
times, made balloons for my son and most importantly, they ministered to me.
They do not know that this was happening to me. I could not speak. I spoke
enough words to get a conversation going so I could stay longer, and longer. It
was Jesus ministering to me. He heard me each morning as I began my day in
Hilton Head, crying out to Him, begging him to take the memories and feelings
associated with those memories of my pain two years ago. He knew I needed some
sign, a blatant sign, that he was hearing my cry, and He arranged for your
missionaries to meet up with my children, my husband and myself. Jesus healed
me that day of the stronghold that those memories and scars had on me.
I know Jesus. I saw Him in the girls who were ministering to people that day.
The healing that he began that day is continuing. The fact that I can write
about this and share it with you is truly a miracle.
Please, will you share this with your girls and your other missionaries. Jesus
definitely has called you to minister to people, even on a resort island.
Thank you for your obedience and your faithfulness to go where God has called
you to go.
God bless you all for your work.
In Him,
__________