Friday, September 17, 2004

Living on the edge of nothingness

I noticed her at the funeral today. She stood mostly alone, and not with the family.  She was short and heavyset. Her teeth a bit crooked and her hair, you could see she tried to put it in a braid.


She looked like she felt like extra baggage. And she couldn't stop crying. Waves of sobs rolled through her, again and again.


I noticed her because she was alone and because she was so lost. She was one of the daughters of the woman we buried today.


Tonight I was called to the hospital, an attempted suicide. It was her.


She had fought with her siblings, and felt rejected by them. So she left to go be with her mom. She gave a note to some people nearby and walked off into the forest, alone.


They wisely called the RCMP who began a search, and were able to find her with the help of their canine unit.


When I caught up with them, she was in emergency, under guard. Physically not too badly hurt, but emotionally broken to the core. They wanted me to try to talk her out of her plan.


As soon as she saw me, she began to sob again out of relief I think- a friendly face. She wept uncontrollably as I attempted to show her some care.


She told me many things through those tears. It was the language of lostness. There was nobody left to live for, no reason for her to exist. There was nobody to go home to. Nobody to call on the phone. Nobody to meet for coffee. There was no job. There were no friends. There was no self esteem. No awe inspiring beauty.  No shinny straight teeth. No boyfriend no husband, no children.


There was no reason to live.


As we talked I realized she wasn't changing her mind about the suicide. It was like looking into the Abyss of Despair, and she was falling and no one was able to reach her.


I left the room and met with the RCMP officers and the nurse in charge. It was decided to admit her which didn't please her any. Finally she was willing to go, if I came along.


So I, and this poor lost girl, followed closely behind by two big Mounties, made our way to the area of the hospital for admitting.


She settled down a lot, but she still didn't want me to leave. So I stayed with her as they processed her. 


Finally I needed to leave, and she needed to rest. I offered to pray for her, and through her exhausted staring eyes, she replied yes please.


I left remembering that there are so many lost ones out there who live their lives on the brink of the Abyss of Despair. Many don't make it, and I'm not sure this girl will either. But I know that Jesus is out there looking for his lost little ones. We as Jesus followers must find ways to be out there too. So that God can love and save his babies, through us.


Pray for her ok?


 

2 comments:

  1. that just breaks my heart.



    thankfully you were able to be there for her, even though it's an incredibly tough and draining thing to do (i've been there too...)



    will pray for her, and for you as you minister to her.

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