Listening to a Special Voice: A Missionary’S Journal

By Peggy Bennitt

This book is about my husband, Harry, and myself two people who had a strong desire to help others and to inspire someone to do what we did. When starting a work camp for the first time, we did not realize that God would call us to one after another. I wanted to be able to help those who lived with a feeling of not belonging. This all came true for me when we were with Russian children who lived in a government program that combined their school and their home. The children were
either orphans or abused. One day, a young girl came to me and said, I can tell by your eyes you understand how we feel.
I knew then Harry and I were doing what our Lord was telling us to do.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 5, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453550854

Book preview

Table of Contents

Acknowledgment

Introduction

The Charleston Islands

Anadarko, Oklahoma

Carnegie, Oklahoma

Anadarko, Oklahoma

Lubbock, Texas

Africa

Satka, Russia

Satka

Kirov

Kirov

Kirov

Kirov

Kirov

Moscow and Kirov

Kirov

Moscow

Acknowledgment

I want to give my heartfelt thanks to Phyllis Peck for believing that I could write this book, and also to my husband, Harry, for his love, patience, and his belief in me. My thanks to Al Peck, Phyllis’s husband, for encouraging me with his interest and support.

There are many other people I want to recognize: Nina Kazakova in Russia, who always wanted me to write about our experiences there; Natasha and Sasha Rezanov, dear friends from Russia; Dan Lumpkin from our church in Fairhope, Alabama, for his encouragement; and many others who supported me through the frustrating days.

But I have to go back and give my praises to Phyllis. God bless you, Phyllis

Introduction

In 1975, Harry and I lived in New Harmony, Indiana. It was then that I started writing.

One Sunday morning, we went to church; our minister was gone, but the Reverend Charles Armstrong was there. Before long, Harry and I felt God had sent him to us.

After his sermon, Reverend Armstrong began to talk about mission-work camps. The one he had been involved with for years was putting a work camp together and needed volunteers. He told us what a blessing God had given him: to help poor churches make their churches better.

The work camp was to be on Yonges Island, one of the five islands off the coast of Charleston, South Carolina: Johns, James, Edisto, Wadmalaw, and Yonges. The islands are surrounded by a canal coming in from the Atlantic Ocean, going around the islands, and returning to the sea.

The islands are part of Civil War history. When Fort Sumpter was under attack, slave ships that were in the area threw the slaves overboard. Those who made it to shore became the nucleus of the people who live on Yonges Island today. The slaves had come from Sierra Leone, West Africa, and spoke what they call Gullah, the language still used on the island. Black residents living on Sea Island and in the coastal areas of South Carolina, Georgia, and northern Florida speak creolized English.

Reverend Armstrong said many churches would be involved in the mission project, as it would take many work camps to finish the project, which was to be a day-care center. Most volunteers would go for two weeks and do as much as they could; then volunteers from another church would go down.

On the way home, we said, We can do this.

The first meeting we attended was exciting—planning all of the things that had to be done to prepare us before we could go. The first thing was to raise the money for building materials. Two men, who had been involved in other work camps, went to find where materials should be bought and where we would stay. We had to see to our own personal needs such as cots, blankets—everything for our own comfort. There would be people of various talents in our group: contractors, people with building skills (one would be Harry), doctors, engineers, and many more.

I wondered how I could help the people find God and help them with material things they did not have. But I believed we were volunteering for this project because the Lord wanted us to. My faith, however, was not as it is today. I had many questions about my own feelings, and Harry, although he had always helped people, had not taken Christ as his Savior. That was to come later.

The Charleston Islands

September 16, 1977, to September 20, 1985

We arrived on Yonges Island on a Saturday, as we had been instructed. Many in the volunteer group had already arrived and were busy getting settled.

At our meetings, we had been told that if we could not find our way onto the island when we reached the turnoff, not to ask a white person for directions. They did not like white people helping the blacks. This was the seventies; I am sure things have changed.

Of course, when we got close to the turnoff, we had forgotten how to turn. We crossed the bridge and asked the first person we came to. We were received with not-too-friendly feelings until we mentioned Reverend Armstrong’s name. Then, we were helped immediately. Reverend Armstrong had been coming to the islands for many years and was well loved.

After leaving our helper, we were on our way to our project.

What an eye-opener! Some of the houses were nice, but most were shacks. Most of the roads were dirt roads. And the smell! I cannot describe it, but it was very unpleasant.

Again I was fighting the feeling: How would these people accept what we will be doing? Just something they are getting? Not thinking we were there because God wanted us to help them?

We turned to see the church. It was small; but there was a big building, hundred feet by sixty feet, at the back. Our project was roofing.

My next job was to find where we would be staying. Harry went to help those who were putting in the outside showers. I shall never forget my first shower! I was sure they had run the water through a refrigeration unit.

After Harry showered, he said, If we are going to use the showers, we are going to need warm water!

Leave it to Harry. He had brought hoses and all the tools needed to hook up the showers to hot water from inside the church. Our outside showers had warm water.

That evening, we were getting to know our fellow workers with whom we would be working for the next two weeks. Harry, the people person, decided we needed popcorn—but he managed to burn the pan. Lucille, a minister, was in charge of the kitchen. She was a very serious person, and I could tell by her look that she was not going to like Harry. He did clean up the pan, however, and without damage.

Early the next morning, Harry was at the back door of the kitchen, which was locked, singing, Why Did You Have To Leave Me, Lucille? From then on, they were friends. In fact, we did many work camps with Lucille. She told Harry the work camps were the most fun she had in her life. How sad!

The next day was Sunday, and we went to church with the Islanders. This was a new experience for me and Harry because we did not worship as they did. They put their hearts and souls into their praising. An elder lady came in with a walker and sat next to Harry. When praise time came, she got out in the aisle and was really dancing. Harry got excited and was sure she was going to have a heart attack, but she didn’t. After service, Harry helped her out of the church. That evening there was a special service because the praise time had been so long. We left after two hours, and it was much later when the service ended.

The first year, we were invited into the Islanders’ homes for Sunday dinner. The home we went to was not on the island; five of us attended. It was very nice. At first, we thought our hostess was a woman alone; we did not see a man. Two other women, however, were there to help serve.

When it came time for us to sit down to eat, our hostess and her helpers did not sit down with us.

I said, Since I am the only woman in our group, we wish you would eat with us. We are not here just to be served but to join you in the meal.

Our hostess answered, You are the first white people who have been in our home, and we did not know what to do.

They joined us, and we had a very interesting time. After dinner, the men went outside, and I stayed inside to help clean up.

Oh, no! You cannot help, the women said.

Of course, I did, and they were delighted.

While I was helping, I turned around and saw a man coming out of a back room. He was our hostess’ husband. I asked him what he did, and he said he was a plumber. Later, our hostess told me that he had not wanted us to come.

I said to him, Please go out and talk with the men. They will be putting a new roof on the building next to the church, and the building will then be used as a day care center. And he did join them.

It was a very pleasant Sunday for all of us. We did not see them again, however, at least not at the church. Of course, we did not know if they went there.

At this work camp, I did not help build. They came and took me to John’s Island to work with women brought from inland. They only spoke Gullah; and I could not understand, so we got along as well as we could. We helped them quilt. The rest of the time I helped in the kitchen.

The roof we were assigned was completed in a couple of days before we were to leave. Many of the houses had only cement blocks for steps. So the men made a set of steps for a lady’s house. Then, everyone wanted them! So the men started cutting steps and building them and did as many as they could in the time we had left.

Harry drove a well in the home of an old woman. While we were there, her son came in a big car! He looked exactly like Michael Jackson. Later we found out he was selling dope. We felt sad for his mother; she was a very nice lady.

When we became involved with one house and started siding it, the wall fell down. What a mess! But the men rebuilt the wall. You never knew what you would get into when you started working on houses.

The Reverend Goodwin was the minister there, and he invited all of our group for an outdoor fish fry. The Goodwins’ lived in a lovely home on the island, but it was really in the middle of a dump.

When we arrived Reverend Goodwin was frying fish and feeling pretty good (the reverend liked his drinks). He was dumping the fish into dirty water, then into his secret blend, and finally into hot oil. Harry said he wasn’t sure he could eat, but I told him he had to. I walked over to talk with Goodwin’s wife; she was a special education teacher and a very beautiful woman. She had made she-crab soup, and it was delicious.

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The next time we went to Yonges Island, Bill and Prudy Stallings went with us—rather, we went with them, as they took their camper, which we stayed in after we reached the island.

Prudy was a retired economics teacher; Bill owned a lumberyard. Both had a lot of talent to give to a work camp. Prudy had the idea of starting a sewing center to make clothes for children; people would be asked to pay what they could. We had a lot of supplies with us: sewing machines and all that we needed to make clothes.

First, we needed to find three young women who could run the center after we left. And we did find them. They all had high school education and were good seamstresses.

Next, we had to find a building where we could have the center. We found one next door to where one of the young women lived, but it was very much in need of repair. The first problem was the wiring; bare wires were hanging down. Bill, Harry, and Lloyd were all familiar with electricity, so in a couple of evenings, we were in business. If I remember right, we made about twenty-five children’s outfits. The project, however, finally fell through because some of the women, who were social workers for their people, were taking some of the clothes and even some of the sewing machines.

I could not understand. We were there because God wanted us to be there. They were supposed to help us. I was confused as to where I was in my walk with God. Chuck, Reverend Armstrong, who had become a very good friend, helped me through it.

That year our volunteer group completed many jobs. I especially remember one when Prudy and I were at the sewing center. Bill and Harry were cutting rafters for a house. Bill kept cutting them all the same way, but they discovered the problem and corrected it. Thank our Lord it was only a mistake and not an accident.

While Bill and Prudy were there, she and I decided we needed to wash some clothes. Although we were in the most poverty-stricken part of the island, we found a place that was a Laundromat, with dirt floors and machines up on wooden platforms. We did get our clothes clean, but we were glad to get back to camp.

At another work camp, we helped build a church. Volunteers from many churches worked together on this project. We went back to visit the finished church and had worship services with them.

That year, we took many gallons of paint that had been donated from many stores. Of course, there were many different colors. When we had a project to paint, we took as many gallons of paint as we thought we would need—many different colors—mixed them all together, and that was the color, whatever we were painting.

During another work week, four of us put a hot water heater and a bathroom in a the home of the grandmother of a young girl named Monique. Monique was sixteen years old and it was the first time in her life she had had a hot bath in a tub.

Many of us had become very fond of Monique, eight of us decided to go down and put a bedroom on for her. The idea started with Lloyd and Marie Wright, but they could not come with us. They let us use their camper, however, which was wonderful.

The first to go down were Harry and I; then Kurt Miller following with the camper. When we arrived, it was pouring rain, and there was a very bad storm.

After we parked and hooked up, the electricity in the camper did not work. Both Harry and Kurt understood electricity, but they couldn’t find what was wrong. I suggested trying the hookup outside, but that went unheard. They called Lloyd. He said he had checked everything before we left—there was nothing wrong with the electricity then. So Harry and Kurt decided to try the hookup outside. And that was the problem! I just grinned and said nothing. But we did have to move in the rain and, by then, in the dark.

We were there for a couple of days before the rest came. A tent had to be put up to have room for everyone to sleep. For a couple of days we had to work in the rain.

It was rewarding to see Monique again. Some of us had bought a bed and everything a young girl could want. There was only one problem: Monique and her grandmother were harassed for having what we had given them. We never did anything special for an individual again. There was too much jealousy among those people.

Harry and I used a vacation trip to Florida to stop on the Island to take sewing supplies to the sewing center. It was New Year’s Eve, and Reverend Goodwin asked us to stay and come to their church on John’s Island about 11:00 p.m. to see the watchman come in at midnight. It was one of their native traditions. We thought it would be interesting.

We found the church; it was in a very desolate place: dark, cold, and foggy.