A woman sat reclining on a beach chair, relaxing with her husband and enjoying the turquoise sea. She could have been any woman, from anywhere in the world.
Except that she was completely covered in loose, flowing black cloth. Only her eyes were visible through a slit in the fabric covering her face.
This Muslim family was just like mine—enjoying a few days at a hotel by the sea.
I walked along the beach past the covered woman and her bearded husband.
“Good morning,” I said in Arabic. “Good morning,” she replied.
I smiled at her and kept walking, even though my heart stirred for more.
When I joined my husband, Alex, under a beach umbrella, I discovered our kids had already befriended the couple’s eight-year-old daughter. The three were playing together in the sand nearby. I kept glancing back at the woman, hoping she wouldn’t notice. Even though I could see nothing through her veil covering, I felt so drawn to her—as if the Holy Spirit were nudging me toward her.
An hour or so later, as we brushed the sand off of our kids and matched up three pairs of mini-flip-flops to six little feet, I noticed that the woman’s husband had the same waterproof camera as ours.
“Alex,” I said, “Look! That guy has the same camera as you. You should go talk to him.” Nothing like projecting a nudge from the Holy Spirit onto someone else!
Alex talked briefly with the man about their experiences using the underwater camera, but that was it. It was over and we returned to our room.
The following morning, the veiled woman and her daughter were at breakfast, just the two of them. Our kids ran over to their table. “Maryam, Maryam!” they shouted in unison. I took that opportunity to talk with the woman, who introduced herself as Fatiha.
I learned that Fatiha, her husband, and their daughter live in the same city as us.
As we chatted, Fatiha shared about her devotion to God, which is paramount in her life. She also loves to paint (as do I) and her husband enjoys photography (as does Alex).
That evening, Fatiha and I sat side by side on beach chairs, watching the sea’s calm rhythm and enjoying the quiet. Fatiha told me that she named her daughter Maryam, the Arabic version of Mary, because Mary is the only woman mentioned by name in the Qur’an. We talked about Mary’s amazing example as a woman who submitted herself to God.
“If I had a son,” Fatiha added,” I would name him Yohanna.” She would give him this name, which is the Arabic version of John, in honor of John the Baptist.
“I was just reading about John earlier this week,” I told her. “His words about Jesus are incredible. John said that he was unworthy to even untie the strap of Jesus’ sandal.”
When it came time for our family to go home, I tracked Fatiha down to say goodbye. She hugged me tightly in a long embrace and kissed both of my cheeks through her black veil. Her affection surprised me. But I was pleased that she, too, felt a connection—one that I knew had been divinely inspired.
Once we were settled back home, I called Fatiha, and we made plans to visit each other.
Over the phone, she shared with me that when we had met at the beach, she had seen peace in my eyes. I thanked her, explaining that what she saw was God’s peace—a gift from Jesus Christ—in my heart.
Please pray for Fatiha and her family to be brought into Jesus’ family, that they could have the peace of Christ that she saw in me.
**This account comes from a long-term worker. Names have been changed for security.**
Original article: https://www.frontiersusa.org/blog/article/meeting-a-muslim-beach-mom
