Second Chances...

A friend of mine committed suicide last night.

 

Heck of a way to start an entry, huh?  What follows is a way for me to work through some of my thoughts, and more-so a plea.  I'll ask your indulgence as you continue to read.

 

Some of you will know who I'm talking about.  Most won't, and that is ok, because the message isn't about the person.  The message will be about you.

 

I'd never met my friend face-to-face, but we shared three bonds through social media/text/phone:  We're both Christians, we're both responders, and both concerned about the physical, mental, and spiritual well-being of our fellow firefighters, medics, and police officers.  We shared many conversations over the past three or four years.  The topics ranged from the benign to the sublime.

 

He met his Salvation in a hospital bed, after being shot while on a traffic stop one night.  From that day on he wanted to reach out to other officers, just as he had been reached by a police chaplain.

 

He had tasted the bitter taste of divorce, of being shunned by his friends and his church.  He knew there was more joy, more grace, more forgiveness than he had been shown by those who claimed to have cared for him.  He had recently found new joy in a new marriage, in a new state, with new friends and a new job.  His passion for reaching out to responders grew and manifested itself in a published book that outlined his story.  Plans were being made for a second, follow-up book.  He ministered daily to those he knew online and in person.  He prayed for many, even for some of you on this email.  Hundreds of cards were mailed to encourage officers, dispatchers, firefighters...anyone who wore a badge.  

 

Recently, he and his wife hit a speed-bump in their marriage.  In talking to him over the past couple of weeks, it really wasn't that big of a deal in the walk of life.  How they handled it could have been better, and they knew it.  But it separated them, and brought him pain.  Each day we'd text back and forth, just checking in to see how he was doing.  Some exchanges would be brief, others would be protracted, but they were healthy.

 

A text from him Sunday morning read: "You talked to me in a weak time last night and still loved me.  Thank you.  I feel refreshed today"  Other texts on Monday from him read: "Guard your family my friend, with added emphasis....The enemy is serious"

 

Then news this morning. 

 

One thing I'd told him over and over: "My phone is always on".  There were no texts last night, no phone calls.  Oh how I wish there had been.  We'll never know what was going on last night, what demons overcame him.  

 

Why do I write today?  There is help.  We all - ALL - have a breaking point.  We can never know what that breaking point is until we reach it.  And until we're there, we can't say how we'd handle it.  

 

I am not a psychologist, but I am a peer counselor.  You have a friend.  I've seen many of our badge-wearing brothers be helped along, but they had to reach out first.  From major tragedies to those who have appeared on my doorstep saying "I was driving along and picked out the tree I was going to hit....but decided to come see you instead".....you can be helped.  

 

We're brothers.  We help people.  But that doesn't place us above being helped.  Do not let this darkness overtake you.

 

My phone is always on.....   Grace & Peace my friends

 

(PS: I'm fine.  I write to vent.)