In a small town in Colorado at the base of the Rocky Mountains, along a ridge known as the Hogback, Rōni sat in the tiny emergency room of the only hospital within fifty miles. Unlike the emergency rooms in big cities, this one did not have the hustle and bustle of doctors and nurses running here and there, making decisions as to who needed the most immediate care. The halls were actually pretty quiet. She was the only person sitting in the waiting room. Rōni looked down at her hands and realized she was shaking. No wonder. She felt like she might throw up, though if she was honest with herself, that feeling had been sitting there in the bottom of her stomach for months, feeling like a rock that would one day choke the life out of her. In the quiet of this small waiting room, there was nothing to stop the thoughts screaming in her head. How had things come to this? What had she done so wrong that her oldest son would do this to himself? Oh, God, please… The first time he did this, You stopped the bullet. We all knew it was a miracle, and we praised you and thanked you for a second chance. What was that all about if he was just going to do it again three months later? What was she missing? Rōni had tried so hard to be the perfect mom. Her own childhood had been such a mess. She gave every bit of herself to parenting her children with love, to protecting them from every hardship or hurt in this world. Rōni had believed that the family history had stopped with her. Her children would never know abandonment, cruelty, powerlessness, hopelessness. Yet here they were. How could her son have so much pain inside that this seemed like the right choice to him. Children are not supposed to die before their parents. Rōni always believed she could survive anything, could take any hardship or pain, because she had been so well trained in pain growing up. But this… This was pain like nothing else. How could she go on if...? He was her pride and joy. They had made so many wonderful memories right from the start. Yet he was so very angry now, so unhappy. She felt like someone held her heart in their hands and was slowly squeezing the life from her. Oh, Abba, Father, help me – give me strength to face this mountain. She looked out the window across from where she sat and saw the beauty and majesty of the mountains He had created, and she felt so small. How could God hear this one small voice crying out to Him? Yet somehow she knew He was there, listening, holding her close. God, help me see the truth. Where does all that anger come from? What don’t I see? What don’t I know? You who knows all things, show me. Bring the truth to light. Show us how we can help him.
Submitted by J. Benson, Aug. 8 '09
