Missionary Letter--Even Worms Play a Part

If you can read through this letter without shedding a tear, you're made of stronger mettle than I!
This is an actual, recent letter from one of the missionaries our church supports. You can feel the heart of a mother and the hand of the Lord in this. After reading it, it had definitely encouraged me to find the worth in willing walking through this challenging time God has for us if it means that "Fatima heard of her savior, was saved, and worshiped the one true God."

After days of clearly seeing our Father's leading in moving our family here, we all began to be struck with physical ailments.  We were all sharing symptoms of an odd blistering rash, fevers, headaches, vomiting and then an infestation of worms.  These worms had burrowed into the top layers of the skin, and as they moved around it caused severe itching.  In the evening, Lydia laid in our bed as I applied medication, and she was about in tears over it all.  We were praying for the medication to help, and she began questioning why we had moved.

As I held her, I asked her, "If Fatima heard of her savior, was saved, and worshipped the one true God, would you be willing to have worms?  Would it be worth it?"  She turned to me and questioned, "Who is Fatima?  We don't know a Fatima."  I replied a little exasperated, "I don't know.  It's just a name I came up with.  The point is that if a girl heard of her savior through you, would you be willing to suffer through these worms?"  She just soaked it in, and I could tell she was processing it.  And honestly, so was her very tired mama.

The following morning, a national friend stopped by to check in on our family.  She had visited us the day before where she had seen me fatigued, yet excited that God might have provided a solution through medication.  We chatted about how everyone had seen improvement.  Praise God!  She had brought her niece with her.  Her niece has worms, too, and had scratched the skin raw.  "Can you help her?"

"Let us prepare some medicine and try."  I asked Lydia to play outside with the niece while we prepared.  Those two girls enjoyed each other's company so much, even with a language barrier!  The niece had such a sweet demeanor.  We applied the medicine, and my friend and her niece began to leave.

I looked at the girl and said, "We would like for you to come back and play.  How old are you?"

"Eleven."

"That's great; Lydia will be eleven in a month!  What is your name?"

"My name is Fatima."

Lydia squeezed my hand, and I stood silent.  We wished our friends farewell. As I closed our gate, my daughter looked at me with wonder and asked, "Is that THE Fatima?"

Our family spontaneously worshipped our immense, real, and intimate Father.  What a gift of grace.  As we recounted the story to one another, Lydia suddenly realized that she would not have met Fatima if she hadn't had worms.  Now her desire to share His Name has increased tremendously.  This is a fight, and we all experienced that what was meant for evil, our Father meant it for good.