My dad was in the hospital this week. Thankfully, he is out and his prognosis is good. While I hung out with Dad those two days, I was privy to some sad sights. The most tragic was the man recovering from a suicide attempt in a room close to ours. His parents, wife and tiny children sat vigilantly in the waiting room. A guard waited outside his door.

It broke my heart. Those babies and young wife. The parents, so hopeful in their shock and grief. In light of this and all the talk in society about suicide, depression, and anxiety lately, I decided to repost a blog I wrote in 2015, for incourage.me

 So many of us struggle in the area of mental health or love someone who does. It is a lonely, scary business and sometimes terrifying. A different kind of #metoo is happening, a movement of story sharing. There is a beautiful vulnerability in the telling: Those who have suffered from the blues, nudge the issue out of the dark and into the open where light can shine and hope and help can be found. If we tell our stories, it may compel someone who desperately needs a lifeboat, feels isolated, prideful (like me), or too embarrassed to reach out. A friend, acquaintance or even a stranger waits in the wings. We do not have to suffer alone. 

I do not know this young man’s backstory. Did he reach out for help? Did he feel pride and shame before it was too late? My prayer is that this is the beginning of his journey out of the pit. Please Lord, please.

Dear friend, what’s your story?

My story continues. Here is a small dose:Continue Reading