fromshatteredtorestored 6x9 layout 3 - redemption press€¦ · member, president’s new freedom...

Praise for

From Shattered to Restored

From Shattered to Restored is truly an inspired work that will help you understand the higher realm of purpose-filled living. Be prepared to take a transformational journey of your own that will cause you to see and understand your life circum-stances through the heart and mind of God. Nanette Larson’s story is a testimony of trust, courage, and determination. Her book will convince you that God can change absolutely any-thing!

—Darryl BrownFounder and president,

Jump Start Coaching & Development Solutions

More than a memoir, From Shattered to Restored is both manual and miracle. For anyone struggling with mental illness, Larson offers hope and solid help, wrapped in her own vulnerable sto-ry. An excellent tool for churches, small groups, and recovery support groups.

—Jane RubiettaSpeaker, coach, and author of twenty books,

including Worry Less So You Can Live More

Nanette Larson has embodied every stage of the mental health process—illness, treatment, and recovery. Her life and work exemplify the essential interweaving of the clinical and the spiritual. Nanette’s deep, passionate call for a life of wellness creates an insatiable thirst for knowledge and truth through

which everyone can grow. I am grateful to be part of her jour-ney. Well done.

—Eric D. Newble, Senior Pastor, Inspiring Ministries International

in Jackson, Tennessee

That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled—the Word of life. This is the journey of Ambassador Nanette, as shared in From Shattered to Restored. She takes us on a very personal walk through her life—the Word manifested before us. Her vulnerability, hones-ty, and openness allow us to handle, touch, feel, and look upon the making of this precious gift. I wholeheartedly encourage you to glean from her book and apply these life-changing prin-ciples.

—Mark A. Du Bois, Senior Pastor, Judah International Ministries

in Mackinaw, Illinois

Nanette Larson is not only a rock star, she’s a one-of-a-kind. She uses her personal experiences with mental illness to show others that the road to recovery is not only possible but that it’s well worth the journey. Doing so, she has influenced mental health policy and practice for the betterment of those who are often the most vulnerable in our society—and that’s what dis-tinguishes her as a true leader.

—Gail P. Hutchings, MPAPresident and CEO, Behavioral Health Collaborative

Member, President’s New Freedom Commission on Mental Health

From Shattered to Restored invites us into Nanette Larson’s inspi-rational story of faith-based recovery and will be of particular interest to those whose Christian faith is core to their lives. Its usefulness will extend to many others, including mental health professionals, as Nanette provides the frame for an informative

review of the failings of the increasingly objectified approach to emotional suffering and its treatment. For those of us fortu-nate to have worked with her in the Illinois Division of Mental Health, Nanette’s story provides an important historical doc-ument of the development of recovery principles in Illinois. Informative chapters cover WRAP planning and training and are a useful resource for those interested in self-help approaches and teaching others these approaches.

—Dennis Beedle, MD Health system clinician,

Department of Psychiatry and Behavioral ScienceNorthwestern University, Feinberg School of Medicine

Former clinical director,Illinois Department of Human Services,

Division of Mental Health

For nearly twenty years, Ms. Larson has changed the lives of literally thousands of people with mental illness across the state of Illinois and throughout the United States, as a master trainer for Wellness Recovery Action Planning. The chapter on WRAP is an excellent example of the power of peer support to em-power others, and Nanette’s unique ability to share her use of WRAP in her own recovery journey truly transforms lives!

—Susan A. Pickett, PhDDeputy Director of Research and Evaluation,

Advocates for Human Potential, Inc.

The first time I heard Nanette Virginia speak to an audience, now some twenty years ago, I thought she was the best I’d ever heard. She was genuine, authentic, courageous, and vulnerable then and remains so now. And she’s now a stunningly brilliant author.

—Robert Vyverberg, EdDFormer chief of staff,

Illinois Department of Human Services, Division of Mental Health

© 2019 by Nanette Larson. All rights reserved.

Published by Redemption Press, PO Box 427, Enumclaw, WA 98022

Toll Free (844) 2REDEEM (273-3336)

Redemption Press is honored to present this title in partnership with the author. The views expressed or implied in this work are those of the author. Redemption Press provides our imprint seal representing design excellence, creative content, and high quality production.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any way by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—with-out the prior permission of the copyright holder, except as provided by USA copyright law.

Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Ver-sion®, NIV® Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

Scripture quotation marked ESV are taken from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version. ESV® Text Edition: 2016. Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers.

Scripture quotations marked KJV are taken from the King James Version. Public domain.

ISBN 13: 978-1-68314-679-7ePub ISBN: 978-1-68314-680-3Kindle ISBN: 978-1-68314-681-0Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2018968233

DEDICATIONTo people everywhere who are living with the challenges

of mental and emotional pain, searching for hope, healing, and wholeness. To people living in recovery from those

challenges, whose stories the world is longing and needing to hear. To local churches across the world who are called to

minister hope, healing, and wholeness to us all.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Acknowledgments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13

Words of Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15

Foreword . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17

Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19

1. The Chapel: Discovering God’s Voice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

2. Such Were Some of You: Recovering Hope. Discovering

Interconnectedness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31

3. I Quit: Recovering Faith. Discovering God’s Power . . . . . . 39

4. Who Am I? Recovering Sense of Self. Discovering Identity in

Christ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45

5. Food Fight: Recovering Strength. Discovering Choice . . . . 53

6. The Cutting Edge: Recovering Soundness of Mind. Discovering

Worship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61

7. Highly Sensitive: Recovering Self-Compassion. Discovering

God’s Workmanship . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69

8. Home Sweet Home: Recovering Community. Discovering

Authenticity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77

9. Drug-Free: Recovering Balance. Discovering Freedom . . . . 85

10. An Inside Job: Recovering Resilience. Discovering

Process . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93

11. It’s Not a Waste: Recovering Direction. Discovering

Purpose . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 101

12. China: Recovering Courage. Discovering God’s Presence . 113

13. WRAP: Recovering Wellness. Discovering Empowerment . 125

14. Strength in Weakness: Recovering Gratitude. Discovering

Grit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 135

15. Forgiveness: Recovering Freedom. Discovering Grace . . 145

16. Ambassador: Recovering and Discovering . . . . . . . . . . 153

Epilogue . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163

Appendix A: Who I Am in Christ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 171

Appendix B: Wellness Recovery Action Plan (WRAP) . . . . . . 175

Appendix C: Steps to Forgiveness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 179

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Acknowledgments

Both in my life thus far and in the writing of this book, there are countless individuals who were essential, instrumental, or peripheral to my surviving and, ultimately, thriving. Were I to list them all, their names would likely fill as many pages as the chapters of this book, and even then, I would risk unintentionally overlooking someone. Therefore, I have chosen to identify only those few whose influence in my life is in some way reflected in the pages of this book. To every person whose name is not listed, your presence is no less prominent in my life, and my gratitude even more profound.

Laura Walters—for believing there was hope for me; for providing a sanctuary for my wounded soul; for helping to preserve my life so that, eventually, I could live my life.Rachel Emery—for loving me through it all.Pat Berry—for befriending me in the night at IWU.Megan Krejci—for ministering to me as a friend and colleague at Cunningham Children’s Home.Trish Herman—for posting the “Freedom & Fire” flyer at the IWU student center.Tom Lentz—for spotting me in the balcony of Evelyn Chapel.

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Julie Brown—for approaching me, in my brokenness, with dignity and respect; for loving me with hope and integrity; for your friendship into eternity.Darryl Brown—for your enthusiasm and inspiration; for your effective, fervent prayers on my behalf.Bishop Mark Du Bois—for leading your flock with true integrity and calm authority; for helping me find my place on the wall.Apostle Eric Newble—for opening the eyes of my understanding and showing me the hope of God’s calling, the riches of the glory of God’s inheritance, and the exceeding greatness of God’s power through Christ Jesus.Tim Stone—for being a faithful friend, attendant, and guide; for helping me navigate many stormy waters.Kate, Linda, Jeff, and Patrick—for being my high school lunch-table buddies.Linda Hughes—for embracing me as teacher even as you were teaching me.Andrea Schmuck—for pioneering the mental health consumer movement in Illinois, thereby blazing a trail for so many people like me whose experiences in recovery from mental illnesses have become more asset than deficit.Leigh Steiner—for inviting me to join the People to People Ambassadors trip to China, the experience of a lifetime.Bob Vyverberg—for relating to me interpersonally and authentically, in genuine Carkhuffian fashion, thereby empowering me to actualize my potential.Marlene Bagnull—for publishing Write His Answer, the book that ultimately launched this book.Jane Rubietta—for guiding me through the writing of this book; for providing the voice of experience, encouragement, and hope.Jesus, my Lord and Savior, the lover of my soul—for setting me free, that I may be a witness of Your truth, hope, and love in the earth.

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Words of Context

The growing mental health recovery movement holds promise of liberation, both for those who struggle with mental illness and for the mental health professional community in general—and psychiatric medicine in particular—through a vision of collaborative care that offers a refreshing alternative to the stale medical paternalism that has dominated the field for years.

In a beautifully written, compelling, personal, and deeply spiritual narrative of mental health recovery, Nanette Larson takes us on a trailblazing journey of discovery, finding—or better, creating—her path to wholeness. She shows us how recovery takes place in community while at the same time every individual finds their own path forward. Much more than that, in doing so she raises the bar for the emerging mental health peer support profession by demonstrating exactly how the work is done.

Larson’s book illustrates very practically the foundational principles of recovery and the role of peer support as she deftly weaves these pillars of the movement into her own story. From consumer specialist to mental health ambassador, Larson emerges as storyteller par excellence. From Shattered to Restored is a must read for all who have a stake in mental health recovery and wellness.

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Christopher G. Fichtner, MDMDiv, Princeton Theological Seminary

Clinical Professor of Psychiatry,University of California, Riverside, School of Medicine

2010 Modeling Recovery Award Recipient, Riverside County Department of Mental Health

17

Forewordby Tim Stone

Our societal attitudes toward people with mental illness and how they have been treated are centuries old and have been continuously shaped over those centuries. The ruins of thousands of asylums, created to segregate people with mental illness from a society that completely misunderstood the problems and completely rejected the sufferers, litter many countrysides around the world. The horror stories contained within the walls of those horrific places are fodder for multitudes of best-selling books and movies. Our morbid fascination with “the crazy” has served to perpetuate stereotypes, and while asylums are a thing of the past, the attitudes persist. The vicious cycle of society’s approach to mental illness—segregate, stabilize, and maintain—results only in more deeply seated mental illness. And when that erupts into society, as it will, it produces the next media circus, the next sale of movie rights, and the next wave of mental illness.

The byproduct of this long history of stigmatization and stereotyping of people with mental illness is a deep-seated fear of being so afflicted. As if to add spite to injury, society offered no hope of prevention of or recovery from mental illness. For decades, the best we thought we could do for those who suffered such maladies was to medicate them to minimize the possibility of them harming themselves or others. Rather than embracing the status of their mental health and

18


offering actionable goals and plans to improve it, we taught them the best they could hope for was to not get worse. If we treated cancer the same way, cancer mortality would still be nearly 100 percent.

My own attitude and perception of mental illness reflected those of my formative years. By the time I was in college, I believed people with mental illness should be put away, out of sight from the rest of us. They simply didn’t belong in our world. Some disturbing encounters with people with mental illness reinforced this shockingly medieval attitude.

When I met Nanette Larson, she fit my stereotype of mental illness quite neatly. I was not comfortable being around her, but being a “good Christian,” I kept those feelings to myself. She began coming to my church, and she began to change. Through the ministry of a few who did not share my views on mental illness, she came to believe she could be healed. As I watched her change, I came to understand that perhaps I was the one who needed the healing.

This revolutionary book describes Nanette’s journey in poignant detail. Sometimes agonizing, sometimes witty, and sometimes hilarious, this story will change your perception of mental health, like mine changed as I experienced it live and in living color. If you have mental illness, you will directly benefit from Nanette’s experience. It will give you hope. If you don’t have mental illness, store up her experiences in your own heart, so you can be a beacon of hope to those who do, and so you can know there is a way to recover from your own mental illness, if it ever comes your way. Either way, I hope you enjoy this book as much as I have enjoyed being the friend of the remarkable person who lived it and authored it.

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Preface

My passion for writing this book originally came from a desire to provide a resource for people seeking hope and healing from mental illness. As a professional in the mental health field, I am continually asked for practical resources to help people who are hurting. After years of struggling to develop that resource, the Lord finally made it clear to me that my story was the foundation upon which such a resource could be built. Indeed, my story must be told—and in its telling, practical tools could and would emerge.

This book chronicles my recovery from existing in a shattered state of mind, body, and spirit to recovering many things lost or stolen as a result of childhood trauma, mental illness, and the adverse effects of mental health treatment. It is a compilation of several significant stories in my recovery process and the restoration of my true self.

These stories cover a period of nearly twenty-one years, beginning in 1996 when I discovered God’s voice, and progressing through 2017 when I came to fully appreciate how each of us spends our lives recovering and discovering. Throughout the book, I share events that occurred before 1996 as well, to enhance context and clarity.

The first nine chapters linger over two years, 1996–97, during which time I experienced a kind of warp-speed recovery process. Writing those chapters required digging through years of journals and

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psychiatric records, dredging up many difficult memories. If I were writing only my recovery stories, I could have stopped writing after chapter nine. However, my story is about so much more than recovery. Beyond what God brought me out of, what He brought me in to is just as important. Chapters ten through sixteen, therefore, are about that greater miracle—discovering God’s purpose in my life.

In writing this book, I have tried to be as accurate and truthful as possible. Yet, the main source for these stories are memories stored within my naturally flawed consciousness. Therefore, whenever possible, I utilized more reliable sources, including journals, medical records, and historical evidence. I have recreated dialogue to the best of my memory or as naturally as seemed pertinent. At times, in order to avoid unnecessary details, I condensed moments that took place over several years into a single scene.

These stories are very personal, and I have striven to write them with authenticity, transparency, integrity, and humility. In addition, I have been zealous in my efforts to protect the stories of others, particularly those of my family members.

In the fall of 2016, I wrote the following words in my prayer journal, and with them I dedicate the book you are now holding in your hands:

The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, for He has appointed me to [write] the good news to the poor; to heal the brokenhearted; to [write] deliverance to the captives and recovering of sight to the blind; to set at liberty those who are oppressed; to declare the time of the Lord’s favor and blessings has come.

The good news was preached to me—that I am loved; that God will never leave me nor forsake me; that my sins are forgiven—all of them—past, present, and future; that there is nothing I can do to make God love me more or less. This is the good news I am called to write,

21

Preface

to give hope to God’s people! Those who are poor in spirit, as I was, destitute in spirit, soul, and body, in a pit of despair.

I am called to write how I was:• brokenhearted—and You healed me,• captive to sin, to thought patterns (strongholds), to death—

and You set me free;• spiritually blind—and You opened my eyes;• oppressed by the enemy in so many ways—and You set me

free and delivered me from oppression;and how You brought me through all that to a place of utter favor and blessing!

I am called to fulfill Luke 4:18–19 by telling my story. This glorifies You and sets the captives free!

I’m willing, Lord, to follow Your way. Thank You for the struggle. Thank You for allowing me to break through this cocoon that I might emerge as the butterfly You have called me to be. It’s time to fly! Glory be to God on high!

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CHAPTER ONE

The Chapel

Discovering God’s Voice

I lay in bed one night, not long after my twenty-fifth birthday, and considered how I’d felt nothing but pain for the last seven years. There was a deep psychological aching of my heart, for which I had spent seven years in therapy trying to gain understanding but had found none. There was also a burning, stabbing, physical pain in my lower back, hips, and pelvis, the result of an injury to my sacroiliac joint that had left me unemployed. I felt as though I had no one. All I had was the endless torment of physical and psychological pain. There seemed to be no medicine that could bring relief from the suffocating agony.

Thoughts rolled around in my mind with no order and no direction. The organizing theme of these thoughts was fear, and the greatest fear engulfing me at that moment was of the unknown. What is going to happen to me? If I try to start something new, will it all come crashing

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down again? I don’t think I can live this way one more day. It’s time. Time to end it all.

Then, from somewhere within my foggy, bewildered state, a surprisingly clear thought emerged. Judah Ministries is having a service at Evelyn Chapel tonight at eight. I looked at the clock. Fifteen minutes before eight. I hadn’t left the house in days. I couldn’t walk without the support of a cane—the pain caused my legs to feel as though they would buckle under me. Still, I sat up on the edge of my bed and pulled on my oversized, long-sleeved T-shirt and well-worn black sweatshirt. I then tugged on the one pair of blue jeans I owned, tattered from years of daily wear. Leaning forward in pain, I slowly reached down to put on my socks. Then my combat boots. I wore those boots everywhere— to work, to family gatherings, to the pool in the summer, and even to church.

I grabbed my long black wool-lined trench coat and my cane. I hated that cane. To me, it was evidence my life would never be the same after this injury. Yet, I held it in my hand and headed toward the steep staircase that descended to the front door. Only when I reached for the cold metal of the doorknob did I begin to wonder what had come over me. I opened the door, and the cold blasted me in the face. My body shuddered against the fifteen-degree chill.

Nevertheless, I went onward to the chapel. Without realizing it, I was taking the first steps toward living my life on purpose.

***

The last three years, I had worked at a home for children with emotional and behavioral challenges. I felt it a privilege to bring hope and love to children whose lives had been filled with nothing but trauma, abuse, and neglect. However, their troubled lives often led them to act out in dangerous ways. It was our responsibility to keep them safe from harming themselves or others. Most times, we were successful.

25

The Chapel

But this last time—the time that caused my injury—my great love for a child blinded me to the severity of the risk. I had worked with this child for several years. We had a good connection. It wasn’t the first time I’d helped calm her during a violent outburst. She was screaming, kicking, and destroying property, but I thought I could handle the situation, so I didn’t call for backup. I thought tenderness and compassion would win.

I held her in a physical restraint and spoke to her with quiet reassurance. “I care too much about you to let you continue destroying things. You can use words to express yourself to me. I’m here to listen.”

Her aggressive behavior escalated. She jerked forward violently. Searing pain shot through my hip. Her movement pulled sharply at my sacroiliac joint that connects the base of the spine to the hip. As I sat on the floor with the child in my lap, pain upon pain washed over me. I’m not sure what hurt worse in that moment, my heart or my hip.

After weeks of bed rest, steroid injections, and physical therapy, I learned I would not be able to return to the job I loved. The ability to physically restrain children was an essential duty, and I was no longer able to perform it. The company offered me severance pay and discharged me to face the world alone.

This was not my first experience with pain and darkness. For years, I had known the pain of depression, deep hurt from a troubled childhood, and the agony of hiding my pain from others. I’d sought answers but found none. I’d cried out to God for help but was never able to hear His response. When I prayed, I’d tell God I was willing to die for Him, but living for Him was, for me, a far more difficult proposition. I spent most nights awake, often walking for miles, fearful of the demons I fought when I slept. Life was something I survived, not something I lived.

During those elongated, sleepless nights when I was in college, a woman who worked the graveyard shift at the university befriended

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me. Our friendship endured long past my college graduation, as my night walking continued. In my mind is a snapshot of one December night in 1995, when a young woman came in to post a sign near my friend’s desk. My heart raced at the presence of a stranger. I hid in the corner behind the desk and kept my gaze pinned to the floor. My friend, on the other hand, quickly engaged the visitor.

“You posting something good?” she asked.“Yeah, my church is hosting an outreach service here at Evelyn

Chapel soon. I’m just trying to get these flyers up. It should be pretty cool. We’re calling it Freedom and Fire.”

I looked up. Fighting against anxiety-provoked dry mouth, I asked, “What church is that?”

“Judah Ministries. It’s in Mackinaw.”“Oh, I’ve heard of that church,” I said and ducked away. That foray

into the conversation was enough for me. More than enough, in fact. Time to wrap it up, folks. I felt safer when the student moved on.

***

Strange as it seems, I did not think of that service again until this night as I walked out into the cold with the cane I hated, the cigarettes that had become both nemesis and constant friend, and my pain. I drove toward the campus chapel.

I pulled up in front of the small brick building—a familiar place to me from my years as a student, singing in the chapel choir. I stepped out of my car and heard people clapping and singing—the sound was both powerful and inviting. The beat captivated me, but it was loud— too loud for my sensitive ears. I wanted to go inside, but the noise was daunting. How could I avoid it and all those people?

Slowly, cane in hand and one painful step at a time, I made my way to the balcony. Once at the top, I breathed a sigh of relief when I found it to be empty. Just for me. I’d made it! Maybe, just for tonight, I

27

The Chapel

thought, I will sit here, enjoy the music, and not worry about what is going to happen to my life, whether I’m going to live it or destroy it.

I moved into a pew and sat down. The song came to an end.“Thanks for coming, everyone! Give someone a hug before you

leave,” someone said from the center aisle.Wait! What?I was shocked to discover that, somehow, I had managed to get

there at the end of the service! Piano music continued as the people engaged in conversation and, within minutes, the leader stood by my side.

I have relived those moments many times since that night as I have remembered and retold this story to those who are interested in how I finally made the decision to live my life on purpose. I always wonder if it really was God speaking to me that night in my room. And if it was, did He lie to me? Did He make a mistake? You know, about the time of the service.

But no, He got it right. Because God knows me. And He knew me then. He knew the condition of my soul, my mind, my emotional state. He knew the intensity of my pain. For years, God had heard the deafening sounds of my silent cries. He knew every little detail. He also knew when I should be at that service. And I can say confidently it wasn’t at the beginning! God knew I would have slipped out early. Why? Quite simply because I would not have chosen life at that moment. The last thing I wanted was to have to speak to someone that night. I had come for the music. Or so I thought.

But one of the leaders recognized me. We’d had one brief encounter some four years earlier. I recognized him too. How could I not? Nearly six feet tall, with an abundant waist, tattoos covering both arms, and long wavy hair flowing past his shoulders. He did not seem like your typical preacher. But it was his unusual appearance that made me feel

28


comfortable in his presence. It made me feel as though he wouldn’t judge me in my combat boots and long black trench coat.

“How are you, Nanette? Where have you been? Can I pray for you?”

Well, the last question was an easy one. Of course, you can pray for me. Please!

“Let’s go downstairs,” he said. I didn’t expect that.Oh, boy. More people. Lots of people. I could hardly believe I was

following him, clunking down the steps in my combat boots, hobbling along with that cane I hated, dragging with me more pain than could be described. What in heaven’s name was going on?

When we’d made it downstairs, dozens of people came to greet me, although it felt like hundreds. As each new person came near, I felt more and more closed in, as if engulfed by a colony of bees.

“Hi.” Sting!“God bless you.” Sting!“We’re so glad you are here.” Sting!Hug. “It’s so good to see you.” Sting! Sting! Sting!My heart raced. I felt claustrophobic and exposed. Surely, they

could see right through me, right into my heart. And, for whatever reason, I didn’t want these people to know how much physical and emotional pain I carried. The pain combined with panic. I began to feel like I was floating in a dreamlike state, detached from reality. All I could think about was finding the closest exit. Has he prayed for me yet? I can’t remember. I’ve just gotta get outta here!

My eyes darted around the room until I finally spotted a way to break free. I said my polite goodbyes and turned to go, only to look up and see yet another attacker. The queen bee! A slender blonde, almost six feet tall, who appeared to be practically knocking people over on her way toward me.

Friendly greetings. A pleasant exchange. My focus still on the exit.

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The Chapel

“Can I walk you to the door?” she asked.These people never quit, I thought. But at least we’re moving toward

the door!As we stood on the chapel porch, I could see my car in the distance.Standing between me and my car was fifteen-degree weather, snow,

ice, pain on pain—and most significantly, a tall, blond woman, eager to tell me, I supposed, about the love of God. Eager to get me to choose life. All I wanted to do was to leave.

You see, I already knew about the love of God. Been there, done that. Shared it with everyone I knew. Believed it myself, in fact. But still, my life resulted in pain. Deep, dark pain. Locked in a prison for which no one had the keys.

“I gotta go,” I told her.“I just want you to know that God can change absolutely anything,”

she declared.“Thanks.” But inside, I thought, You have no idea. No idea what

kind of hell I live in day after day in this prison of my mind, struggling with whether to live or die, hating myself for being alive.

She asked for my number. I declined but took hers as a courtesy. Then I hobbled to my car, finally free from her prying. I drove into the night. And drove and drove and drove. I had tried too hard, for too long, and it never seemed as though life was worth living. I wished I could just drive off the face of the earth into utter darkness. I didn’t want to wake up to see another day.

In the weeks that followed, the pain only intensified. I began to actively plan how to end my life. Losing my job had been the last straw.

But losing my job also proved to be the key to my freedom from this deathtrap. Had it never happened, I would have died for sure. I never would have been lying in my bed that night. I never would have heard God’s voice remind me of the service. I never would have gone

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to the service. And I never would have heard what the queen bee had to say on the porch of that chapel.

“God can change absolutely anything.”Her words that night planted a seed in my heart. That seed would

eventually crowd out the weeds that were killing me. That proclamation, that seed, remained with me through the darkest days to come.

Months later, I learned the service at Evelyn Chapel that night was a special program designed to reach out to people who were not part of the church. I also learned I was the only visitor at that service. I was the only one there to “reach out” to.

While I was planning to end my life, God was preparing people with the time, expertise, and skills to teach me how to live life on purpose.

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