"Educated in a small town
Taught the fear of Jesus in a small town
Used to daydream in that small town
Another boring romantic that's me"
Today was just as hard as I feared. In the small town where I came from, the same one Jenna came from, news travels fast. In these type of situations, so much guilt. What could I have done? How come I didn't realize it had gotten this bad? Why would God not allow her to be rescued somehow? But the bottom line really is, once someone cuts themself off, there really is nothing you can do. You think small-town roots, loving friends and family will keep this sort of thing from happening. In a small town where everyone knows your name and all your business spanning three generations, it seems insulated somehow from this sort of tragedy. But it wasn't.
Depression is an ugly bitter disease. The devil gets in your head and convinces you that your worst thoughts of yourself are true. Then it enhances those thoughts and eats away at your very core and puts you on a path of self-destruction that alot of people don't return from. I have to hope that God judges those in the throes of depression differently. He must.
I used to think suicude was so selfish and lately all I can think is how deep a pit that must be. To look up and not even be able to see God. I look around at all the hurts left behind and for all left in the wake. I don't think she could imagine it or consider past the moment. Suicide is a knife that cuts deeper than any other. It hurts the ones closest to you in every possible way. To the family and friends involved, it will never heal, ease- but not heal. Closure will never come. Self-blame will never lessen. Doubts will never stop. A ripple that never stops rippling.
My biggest question? How could a believer stop having hope? God was with her, he never desserts us.
I wrap this post up with words from a dear brother at church this morning, "Hug tighter, love deeper, we have no guarantees".