This week I saw two bits in the news that broke my heart. One mother who killed her own two little children and one father who killed his baby, pregnant wife, and then himself.
When I see these kinds of stories, they seem to work themselves into my heart and mind and linger with me for quite a while. The more life I experience, the more I wonder about the true back-stories on these situations. Who were they? What little “life thing” was it that piled on top of all the big “life things” that finally caused them to go past the point of no return in their utter hopelessness?
Excuse me for a moment while I open my closet and let some of my junk spill out.
I’ve been married for ten years. During that time we’ve been through unemployment, health crisis, joy, and heartbreak.
I struggle with a chronic illness that I don’t talk about too much. I don’t know until I get up in the morning if I’m going to be able to function on this day or not. It has not only effected me physically, but mentally in the slowing of my thoughts and abilities, and of course emotionally.
I’ve been the caregiver and main worrier-in-chief through the hospitalizations and surgeries on my children and spouse (8 times in ten years), 5 pregnancies and 4 deliveries, more sleepless nights than I can ever remember.
I have a child who is walking that maze of being nuero-diverse in a world that caters to the nuero-typical.
Deaths in the family.
Harm done to those in my care that results in more anger and pain than I can describe.
Feelings of betrayal; hurts done by the hand of those I thought were friends.
Depression, feelings that I am completely lost and gone and not sure I would recognize myself if I did ever find my way out.
Of course there are many good times, times of joy. But my point is that even in my life, a life that I count as very blessed and supported, not a bad life at all, I have been pushed to the brink of very dark thoughts.
I think of the father who was so overwhelmed with all that he had been through facing war, and then coming home and feeling like he couldn’t handle One. More. Thing. The story I read commented that there was no evidence of financial woes or other major issues. I’m here to tell you that it doesn’t take major financial trouble or other “major” stress to push you over the edge. It just takes enough little things, normal things even, and the feeling that you are empty, spent, completely drained and turned inside out, the feeling that there is no more of you left to deal with any stress, no matter how small.
The mother who killed her two little children, a single mother, young, facing day after exhausting day with no end in sight. The article I read mentioned that she had just had an argument with her mother. I am in no way blaming the mother, heaven knows she’s probably blaming herself, poor woman, but if her mother was her only support system as she walked through this life with two very young children and she felt that she was losing that support… I can almost taste her feelings of helplessness. Of exhaustion. Of futility.
Some would say that she got herself into this by having children outside of marriage and that there is a reason that God planned for children to be born within a family and church. To you, I would have to say, “thank you Captain Obvious for that extra-special glimpse into your perfect world.” But those of who live out here know that it doesn’t always happen that way. In fact, it often doesn’t happen that way. And as I have lived and know, even when it DOES happen that way, there is still stress, overwhelming stress that when coupled with other normal life events, equals absolute exhaustion.
Something has to happen. Something must be done to extend a hand, in a real way, a way that can pierce even the darkest darkness, and reach out to those who are on borrowed strength and simply can’t take another step. I don’t know what, or who, or how. I know I’ve asked God to give me a softened heart to those who are at the edge of darkness and he has… and to be honest, now I don’t quite know what to do with it.
I know that there is a sensible side that also must be addressed, the part that says there must be a balance, that knows that people have to be reachable in order to reach them, that we have to count resources. I’m not discounting that.
I am saying that more brokenness and less accusation would light a fire under “us” to find a way to reach someone.
The people who live on that dark edge and finally fall over are not dirty or scary or necessarily evil. They are me, your sister, your friend… but they are me without you.
They are tired, mentally, physically, and spiritually exhausted, utterly spent and completely vulnerable.
And that can be good news.
Don’t you imagine that a person in such desperation would be open to just about any answer? We’re talking trying to reach the thief on the cross or the woman about to be stoned vs. the rich young ruler.
Maybe if no one is taking that hand we are extending it is because we are extending it to someone who is already standing and not to someone who is losing their last grip?
Find someone, ask God to give you someone, and then extend that hand. Don't be afraid... that someone may end up looking a lot like me.
