UNITY  of Hilton Head: 
A Positive Path
 for Spiritual 
Living,
Meets
Sunday 
at 10 a.m.

Seaquins 
Ballroom
 (Fred Astaire
 Dance Studio)

1300 Fording
 Island Rd.
 (Near Tanger I) 
  Bluffton, SC


We Meet Sunday
at 10 a.m.

Phone: 843-682-8177


Mailing Address: 
 P.O. Box 130
 Bluffton, SC  29910 



Rev. Dr. Julia Johnson
Minister and  CEO

Board of Trustees

Patricia Clinton
President


Marianne Hartin
Vice President

Pat Bell
Treasurer

Theda Parks
Secretary

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UNITY of Hilton Head:
A Positive Path for Spiritual Living
Mission

The Mission Of UNITY of Hilton Head: A Positive Path for Spiritual Living is to help ourselves and others experience God's unconditional love and acceptance.

Welcome

Welcome to UNITY of Hilton Head: A Positive Path for Spiritual Living:  A loving, joy-filled spiritual community made up of people who embrace the spiritual essence in every person. We respect the universal truths in all religions and each individual's right to choose a spiritual path. At Unity, you'll find a spiritual community to join and support you on your journey.

UNITY of Hilton Head: A Positive Path for Spiritual Living belongs to UNITY Worldwide
which sees God as good and everywhere present and affirms the spark of Divinity in all of us. We believe that we can co-create heaven on Earth through our words, thoughts and actions. Please join us on Sunday for our service or attend one of our classes. You'll find a spiritual family who embraces community spirit, prayer and meditation, sacred service, spiritual education and joyful living.


UNITY of Hilton Head:
A Positive Path for Spiritual Living


Meets Sundays
at 10 a.m.
Seaquins Ballroom
1300 Fording
Island Road, (nearTanger I)
Bluffton, S.C.

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Phone:
843-682-8177

 

Dr. Julia's email:

September 2015

Last month marked my late daughter Leslie's birthday.  A dear friend who remembered me on that day sent this heartfelt plea posted online, along with one man's incredible response.   This post brought such comfort and peace to my heart that I have decided to include it this month and I dedicate it to anyone who has ever lost or is in the process of losing a loved one.

The plea online:
My friend just died, I don't know what to do."

The man's response that stood out from all the rest:

"I wish I could say you get used to people dying. I never did. I don't want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I love dies,
no matter the circumstances. But I don't want it to "not matter."  I don't want it to be something that just passes. My scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even gouged, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love.  And the scar tissue is stronger than the original flesh
ever was. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are only ugly to people who can't see.

As for grief, you'll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you're drowning, with wreckage all around you.  Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence
of the ship that was, and is no more.  And all you can do is float.  You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while.  Maybe it's some physical thing. Maybe it's a happy memory or a photograph.  Maybe it's a person who is also floating.  For a while, all you can do is float.  Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you with-
out mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don't even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you'll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but come further apart.  When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out.  But in between, you can breathe, you can function.  You never know what's going to trigger the grief.  It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything...and the wave comes crashing.  But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it's different for everybody, you find
that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O'Hare.  You
can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself.  And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side.  Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you'll come out.

The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don't really want them to. But you learn that you'll survive them. And other waves will come. And you'll survive them too. If you're lucky, you'll have lots of scars from lots of love. And lots of Shipwrecks."

*   *   *

May these words bring comfort to your aching hearts.

This year, on Leslie's birthday, I found myself reliving wonderful memories. Instead of 100 foot waves, only 50 foot waves crashed over me, and I found myself rejoicing over my progress. 

 
Choosing Love,
Dr. Julia

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