Yesterday for Tomorrow

If you would have told me a couple of years ago what I would have been doing yesterday morning, I would have never believed you. Not in a million years would I have believed you ... for lots of reasons, not the least of which would have been that I never would have believed that I would come within minutes of ending my life. Oh, I've had more than a few rough patches over the course of my 53 plus years of life for sure, but no matter how low I was, I had never come as close as I did last year to checking out for good. Even during the times when I was really, really, really down, I didn't get to the point of believing that dying was my only way out. Until last year ... last year, I believed with all my heart that dying would be better than telling the truth. Better for my children, better for my family, better for my friends, better for me. If you would have told me on Saturday, February 4, 2013 that yesterday I would be standing before the particular group I did and telling my story, I would have thought for sure that you were the one who was crazy.

It was cold and windy yesterday, and the event took place at a park downtown near the river. I was really nervous about speaking yesterday, not in small part because I've been pretty down for the last few days, but also because the two gentleman who were speaking as well are well-known news guys in Kansas City. Turned out that they were both super nice guys with giant hearts and open arms, and they helped to both calm my nerves and offer encouraging words and hugs before it was my turn to climb the stairs to the stage and stand before the microphone. Though the kindness of the guys helped a lot, my case of the nerves didn't totally subside because when I reached the mike, I ... ummm ... well ... I did something I've never done when I've spoken at events. I froze. I stood there looking at the large crowd of people who were attending the walk ... the large crowd of people whose lives had been affected in some way by suicide. There were parents who had lost children, children who had lost parents, friends who had lost friends, brothers who had lost brothers ... there were people like me ... people who had reached the point at some time in their lives when they, too, believed that death was their only way out. When I finally began to tell my story, an almost eery silence fell across the crowd as they listened intently to the words I was speaking. I looked at the faces of the people, and I saw the faces of my children had my plan not been divinely interrupted on that cold February morning. For all the times I've spoken at events through the years, I can't say that I've ever felt what I did yesterday ... a surreal type of kinship with the people standing before me.

Following some remarks from the chairperson of the walk, it was time for the people to begin their journey along the walkway that encircled the park. But before they did, many of them first stopped to talk with me, hug me, tell me their stories, ask me to come speak at other events and tell me how thankful they are that I am here ... oh, they thanked me for speaking at the walk, too, but person after person told me how glad they are that I am here, that I am breathing, that I am alive. As I left the park and drove to meet my daughter for a late lunch, some thoughts kept flowing through my mind ... thoughts that have taken up residence ... thoughts that hold within them huge messages for me and perhaps for some of you as well. The people at the walk have chosen to take the sorrow of their yesterdays and turn it into the hope of their tomorrows. They have chosen to take their pain over losing a loved one to suicide and turn it into a way to fund programs to prevent others from ever having to experience the same pain. The people at the walk have chosen not to allow their yesterdays to steal their tomorrows ... they have chosen to share their yesterdays with others in the hope that they will help them see many tomorrows yet to come.

I'm going to close tonight with the words I closed with yesterday when I spoke ... some of which I stole from a friend who said them to me on Friday ... words about what yesterday was ... words about what tomorrow may be. God bless each of you, friends ... God bless you and keep you in the shadow of His abundant love and mercy and grace. 

“Today isn’t about the color of our skin. It isn’t about if we’re rich or poor or short or tall. It isn’t about if we are male or female or gay or straight. Today is about life. Today is about remembering, hoping, making a difference. Today you are making a difference in the lives of people you will never meet. Today is about walking the journey of life together, helping each other, running together at times and carrying one another at others. Today is about you.”