Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: First (as in original) (01/10/05)
TITLE: January 12, 2005
By Kevin Kindrick
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The first words I heard today were “Thanks for everything, and I’m sorry,” then my phone clicked as the connection was broken. The call came at 5:00 this morning, and my heart nearly stopped.
The words were spoken by an old girlfriend of mine, named Clare. She had been borderline suicidal for the past few weeks, and the only thing that had kept her alive had been the love of God. Now, it sounded as if she was giving up the battle. I spent a frantic few minutes trying to call her back, all the while, thoughts were running through my head. “No, no, she can’t do this. Jesus, give her strength. It’s my fault…” and on, and on.
Finally, she answered; all I heard at first was, “Oh my God.” Then she was crying, as I asked her what she was doing. She had already taken several painkillers, and had been about to take more when she picked up her phone.
I kept her on the line while I hurriedly got dressed and went to my car. “I’m coming to your house,” I told her, “but I need you to call the hospital, call 911 and tell them what you took. Stay on the line with me and use your home phone to call them; I want to hear you make the call.”
I stayed on the line until I pulled up in front of her house, only to discover that the police were already there. I walked in behind the first officer, and the second joined us moments later. Clare was sitting on the couch, as the police asked her questions. One of them asked me to wake her father, and I did. When I returned to the living room, the paramedics had shown up. They were going to take her to the hospital. At first she resisted, and one of the medics had to restrain her. She calmed down after I spoke to her, and went to the hospital in peace.
I followed the ambulance, praying all the way, while calling another friend to give me prayer support.
I spent the next two hours in the “safe room” at the hospital with her, as tests were done, blood was taken, and questions were asked. She was given a cup of charcoal to help get the chemicals out of her body. While we were alone, I talked with her, to help keep her calm; and when the nurse was there, I prayed.
Around six Jennifer, the friend I had called earlier, arrived. Together, we continued to comfort Clare, and to speak truths from God’s word to her.
The hospital released her shortly after seven, and Clare asked if we could stop by the Pattern House for some coffee. We did, and spent the next thirty minutes there, telling her of God’s plan for her life, and that suicide was not the way out – that in Jesus there was hope.
We stayed with her until ten minutes to nine, when we dropped her off at school. All the time I was amazed to hear the words coming from Clare’s mouth, words of truth and hope that only God could have put there. She was going to be all right. She saw the hope, and that she didn’t have to fight her battles alone.
Praise the Lord! What a start to the day.
© Kevin Kindrick, 2005
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