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In Decision magazine, Peggy DesNoyers writes:

My job as a psychiatric home-health nurse brought me in touch with many people who were hurt or angry and who were searching for answers to problems in their lives.

I knew that Jesus was the answer, but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to them about him.

I was the master of excuses.

[Until] one patient changed my life.


Wanda was a 56-year-old widow in chronic depression.

All of her family had died, some of them tragically, within a span of 16 years.

The loss and her grief overwhelmed her until life for her became a burden she was unable to bear.


One day she quit her job, went home, pulled the curtains, and refused to leave her house.

Eventually she stopped eating, and even the smallest of tasks became too difficult for her to do.


An observant neighbor had noticed the changed in Wanda’s behavior, and that neighbor made arrangements for her to be taken to a hospital where she was admitted to the psychiatric ward.

At the end of her hospital stay, when she went home, I was assigned to be her home-health nurse.

I visited her weekly to make sure she was taking her medication and was eating and taking care of herself.


Over the course of six months Wanda continued to recover.

Although I knew she needed to meet Jesus as her Savior, I reasoned that she would soon be attending church and would hear about him there.


One day I went to Wanda’s house for my regular visit, and I was surprised to find the door ajar.

I knocked and when there was no response, I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The living room was vacant, so I went to her bedroom and found her lifeless body on the bed.

There were several empty medication bottles beside her, and in her hand she held a noted addressed to me.


I sat on the bed beside her and took the note.

I read: "Dear Peggy, I’m so sorry. I tried it your way, but I got tired. Please forgive me. I tried. I just couldn’t do it. I got tired."


I slid off the bed onto my knees and cried my heart out to my loving, forgiving Father: "Lord Jesus, she tried it my way. I gave her the best that I had. But it was my way. I didn’t tell her about you. I didn’t tell her about your way."


On my knees beside [Wanda’s] lifeless body I promised God that I would never pass by another opportunity to tell someone about him.


[Regret for Not Witnessing, Citation: Peggy DesNoyers, "Silent No More," Decision (July/August 2000), p. 36]

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