I received a prayer request on Sunday that has been tugging at my heart. Last week, a mother ended her life by putting herself on fire. She leaves behind a husband and son.
My heart wept as I heard this tragic story. I couldn’t help but imagine how low this woman must have felt to take such drastic measures. She had lost hope and gave up. It hit me hard because I had been in that dark, hopeless place. I wish I could have helped her.
This tragedy reminded me why I write. I don’t do it to make a name for myself. I’m not writing to gain followers and likes. I’m not looking to make money. I write to help that one woman who tragically thinks there is no hope for her. I want her to know she is not alone.
If you are this woman, I’m writing to you. My friend, I understand the pain of living without hope. I lived there for many years.
Yes, I was the insecure woman who felt stupid, ugly, fat, shameful, unloved and worthless. I hated everything about myself and didn’t want to live. I thought it was better to take myself out of misery. The voices in my head reminded me I was a failure and I believed it. In those dark, dungeon days I thought there was no hope for me. I didn’t think it was possible to love myself and to be happy. Until God got a hold of me.
In my lowest and most desperate state, God lifted me up. Instead of killing my life, he helped me dream up a new life. A life full of hope and possibilities.