(Written September 1994)
I was somewhat the stereotypical small-town-girl. I enjoyed the family atmosphere of the close-knit community, its small social circle and the morals that it taught.
Church was an important part of my childhood. Some of my fondest memories as a child were going to Sunday school on Sunday mornings and then, trying to talk Daddy into letting me stay home on Sunday night to watch “Walt Disney” or “Wild Kingdom.” I am so thankful that my parents gave me a strong foundation, Jesus Christ.
As I sit here typing this essay, I wish I could say “I never strayed from my walk with God;” unfortunately that is not the case. When I was nineteen, life took a turn that I was not prepared for. I found myself divorced with no high school diploma and two babies to support. I went to work and found myself making friends with people that had an entirely different lifestyle than mine. My new acquaintances introduced me to parties, nightclubs and alcohol.
It saddens me to this day to think about the road I chose. I traveled down it approximately seven months, during which time, I discovered that not only did alcohol make me feel good, but it numbed my pain. When I was sober, I had no peace of mind; all my thoughts were focused on my disappointments and anger, frustrations and bitterness. I thought my life was not worth living. I thought, “If today can be so bad, how will tomorrow be?” I had convinced myself that my precious children would be better off without me.
One night I went home from work, kissed my babies, as they lay in bed asleep. I had prepared three letters and sealed each of them. One envelope for each of my children telling them of my love, the other was to my parents telling them how grateful I was for the perfect life they had given me, and apologizing for the mess I had made of it.
I quietly walked to my parent’s room and placed their letter against the lamp beside the bed, at the same time taking Daddy’s pistol.
When I quietly closed the door behind me I didn’t know where I was going but I knew what I was going to do. Fifteen minutes later I found myself in Hull. I was sitting on the altar of the church the children and I had been attending.
I sat there with my eyes closed, but tears were flowing. The church was pitch black but I had a firm grip on the gun.
For a short time, I stopped crying and noticed the sound of silence. It was deafening. Shortly, after that moment I placed the gun to my temple.
At that instant, the sound of silence changed. It was a song and I swear that I had never heard prior to this experience. It was the song titled “Because He Lives”.
I remembered some of the key words and later looked up the song title. It changed my life forever, the words that I remembered were:
“Because He Lives I can Face Tomorrow, Because He Lives All Fear Is Gone, Because I Know He Holds the Future and Life Is Worth Living Just Because he Lives.”
I was not dreaming, I was not crazy.
It was my God letting me know that there is NO problem bigger than him and that because he lives, I can face all my tomorrow’s.