Eric Green lay in a pool of his own blood on the bathroom floor. He watched the red stream spurt from his slashed wrists and trickle along the masonry grooves that separated the little squares of tile. Powerless to stop it, he saw the blood crawl steadily onward and spill into more grooves.
He had started this flow. It was something he had wanted to do—to end his life. But now the horror of his choice overwhelmed him. What a mistake he had made! [Read more…]
Amy was a widow–the consequence of a motorcycle accident. Her husband was killed instantly. It happened two years earlier, and she continued to grieve over the loss of her husband. He was fun-loving and outgoing. She missed his friendly, cheerful presence. She always looked forward to his coming home. They were best friends. There were no children. She now lives alone in the house they were buying. She works in the church office and loves her job. When the church doors are open, she is always there. But going home is hard and lonely. Some friends have suggested that she move out of the house and live somewhere else. Her house holds too many memories.
Perry Black was the production expediter for a printing firm, a bachelor in his 30s, and lonely. He hurried to do what was required of him if asked by someone he liked; if asked by someone else, his feet seemingly were of lead. He gave the impression that he was always available and willing to do anything at all to be helpful, but admitted it was just an impression. He actually hated to be disturbed.
Let me share this letter from a woman to her brother that she recently shared with me:
“… present yourselves to God …” (Romans 6:13).