Friday, July 24th~God's Mercies after Suicide: Blessings Woven through a Mother's Heart~A Mother's Memories

Joshau at age fifteen when he was diagnoised with arthritus

“Dad, I don’t want to die.” 

Joshua’s statement set off the event of a two-hour discussion between him and his dad.

Minutes earlier and at midnight, Joshua had locked our front door behind him and went into the garage. In his own words to his dad: “It’s like I woke up from a daze, realizing I was about to kill myself.”

As I slept unaware of what was taking place, my two men talked of life and God. At one point, Joshua picked up his Bible and shook it at his dad. “We don’t realize who we’re dealing with.” 

At another point in their conversation, Joshua said, “People shouldn’t candy-coat the Bible to their children, for they need to know all things about God.”

My husband woke me at two a.m. “Jean, Joshua’s locked himself in the garage, again, and he’s got a gun.”

Again? 

I bolted from bed and ran outside. I called out in a calm voice, “Joshua, you need to open this door.” Silence. “Come on, Son, it’s late and you’re tired.”

After what seemed like light-years, Joshua opened the door. He was standing by the washing machine with a towel over his arm, and his other hand was under it. “Can’t a guy do his laundry?”

I walked over to Joshua and looked up at him. “It’s too late for that. Let’s go to bed.”

My husband and I thought we had taken all his weapons from him, and then we took turns on suicide watch. We were waiting for eight a.m., when I would begin phone calls to get Joshua in to see a new therapist

When I couldn’t get a doctor appointment as soon as possible, I called our insurance company. I asked if I could get Joshua in to whomever would take him the quickest. Today. They agreed after I told them what our son had almost done.

A therapist one hour from our home said he would see Joshua at one o’clock. We had two hours to get ready and be there. I thought all was well. I thought God had answered our morning prayers. 

Help was only an hour away.

But Joshua continued to switch back and forth from wanting to die to needing to live.

Then, he said good-bye and pulled the trigger.

Not my son. Oh, God, no. Why?  In Jesus’s name, I'm horrified. Amen

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~A Scripture of Encouragement~

Wednesday, July 22~God's Mercies after Suicide: Blessings Woven through a Mother's Heart~Burying Joshua's Ashes~Devotion

Ten-year-old Joshua

I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.

—Philippians 4:13 KJV

I pushed the dirt in the deep hole, where it splattered onto Joshua’s urn. “I don’t feel strong,” I responded.

My sister-in-law had just told me this—that I was strong—as she knelt beside and helped me cover Joshua’s urn in the deep, deep hole.

A few minutes before, no one moved after my husband’s prayer. No one wanted to pick up the shovel and begin to cover up what was left of Joshua.

Jami had wrapped the urn in a soft towel, and her dad placed the urn in its resting place. Then, no one moved.

Wanting to be closer to my son, I dropped to my knees and used my hands to scoop dirt over the hole.

Someone said to me in an anxious voice, “You don’t have to do that. We have a shovel.”

I kept scooping. “No, I’ll do it.”

After long moments, I sobbed. 

Others above me cried. 

With my sister-in-law on one side of me, my son-in-law dropped down on my other side. He pushed dirt with us. As I cried harder, he patted my back and moved the dirt onto the remains of our loved one.

Oh, Lord, the love of family. In Jesus’s holiness. Amen

Monday, July 20th~God's Mercies after Suicide: Blessings Woven through a Mother's Heart~A Mother's Memories

Joshua and his first girlfriend both in Kindergarten

 

“Mom!”

     

Joshua had walked home from afternoon kindergarten with his siblings. The way he hiked up his jeans, this conversation would be about his slip-sliding pants.

     

“What? And how was school today?”

     

His face scrunched in agony. “You’ve got to help me. This belt does keep these pants up.”

     

I sat on the couch and wiggled my finger for him to come to me. “Let’s see.” I stared hard at his waist. The child had no hips to hold up his britches. My mind churned in a plan. “What if I were to make your pants? I would custom-fit them to your build.”

     

His eyes lit up like stars. “That would be neat.”

     

We went material shopping and bought a pattern. I made a pair of denim slacks to fit him perfectly. He didn’t need a belt, but he wore one to look nicer for school. Joshua hugged me. “Thank you, Mom. No more pulling up my pants.”

     

Later, I bought several bigger-sized patterns of the same pant design to continue making Joshua’s slacks as he grew. I made his pants every year, until the summer before he entered sixth grade. He decided he was grown-up and wanted store-bought jeans like his friends had. I was a little sad that I wouldn’t be making his jeans anymore, but I understood. And yes, he still pulled up his pants even with a belt.

Those were happy moments for Joshua and me, dear Father. The relief on his face for wearing slacks that fit made it worth the extra work. In Jesus’s holy name. Amen.

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~Your Mother Memories~

~Your Prayer of Praise~

~A Scripture of Encouragement~