I went to bed that night in a state of deep depression. Thoughts of suicide filled my head as I cried myself to sleep. I thought of all the different ways I could do it, but I was terrified of pain. What would be the least painful way to go? Of course, it would be perfect if I just died in my sleep, but that wasn’t likely to happen.

Pills? That might be slow and would probably take time as the pills slowly dissolved and started to take effect. Besides, we didn’t have prescription strength drugs in the house and I always had trouble swallowing pills anyway. Stabbing myself? No, what if I didn’t get the knife deep enough? That would really be painful! Drowning? No, I couldn’t even stand getting water up my nose when I went swimming. Forget fire … I have always been terrified of burning to death. Hanging? Well, I wasn’t totally convinced of that either.

How about shooting myself? My mom had a small gun that my dad had bought for self-protection in case someone broke into the house while we girls were alone. It was hidden in my mom’s dresser in the space between one of the drawers and the drawer slot, resting on the bracket. All I would have to do is point the gun to a vulnerable spot that would kill me instantly, and then pull the trigger. Out of all the options I thought about, that seemed to be the quickest and easiest way, and I had made up my mind.

Now, no one in my family knew what I was going through. I put on a pretty good façade during the day when I was at school or hanging around with the neighborhood kids. Everyone just thought I was as normal as anyone else and had no idea how depression had taken hold of me after my father’s death, especially at night when I lay thinking about it in bed. Of course, there was no one I could talk to, or that I trusted enough to share my most inter-most thoughts with. Going out dancing every night with Darla and Danielle helped keep my mind busy at night so I wouldn’t have to lay there in bed thinking about how I had caused my dad’s death. It helped me to forget.

This will all probably come as a great shock to those who  didn’t have a clue as to what a seriously deep thinker I was … how I had often pondered about life and death after my father had died. They didn’t know that I wondered about the mysteries of God and had meditated and pondered upon things that no one else ever seemed to think about. This was my serious side that was never revealed because it consisted of my inter-most deepest, spiritual, sacred thoughts … and whenever I had shared anything I was serious about with anyone, they would always laugh at me, or joke about it. These things were not joking matters to me … they were sacred and spiritual matters so I never shared those thoughts with anyone back then.

Anyway, I had decided that the quickest and easiest way to die was by gun, and the next time I found myself alone in the house I would put my plan to action. I didn’t have to wait very long. In fact, it was just a few days later when my mom was going shopping. My two sisters went with her, but I declined. Now was my opportunity. As they left, I listened to make sure they didn’t come back for something they might have forgotten. Then I went into my mom’s bedroom and made my way over to her dresser and slowly pulled open the drawer.

There was the gun, right where I knew it would be. I slowly pulled it from its hiding place and turned it over in my hand, looking at it from every angle. This was it … I was going to do it. I sat on the edge of the bed wondering if it would be better to just aim it at my temple or should I put it in my mouth at an upward angle. I decided on the temple.

“At least when I’m dead I’ll finally know the truth,” I thought out loud. “I’ll know for sure whether or not God really does exist, and I’ll know for sure what happens when we die. I’ll know if there really is a heaven and hell, and hopefully, I’ll know where my dad is. At least I’ll get some of my questions answered, and if I have to die to get them then so be it.”

I cocked the hammer and was totally prepared to die when, just as I was about to pull the trigger, a strange thing happened. I heard a voice speaking to me, but it was different than hearing a normal voice when someone is talking directly to you. It was more like an impression, but I could distinctly hear the words in my mind.

“Do not do this,” the voice said. “It is not the way. If you do it, you will regret it forever. The answers you seek are out there, and if you do not give up, you will eventually find them. Have faith and trust your heart.”

I sat there in shock as I tried to register the words that I had just heard. Where did they come from? Who was it that spoke? The answers I’m seeking are out there? Really and truly out there? I felt a small spark of hope in my chest. Sure, I was depressed, and I may have had the desire to die, but I sure wasn’t delusional to where I saw or imagined I heard things! I distinctly heard a voice and I know it wasn’t just my imagination! Not in a million years would I have thought to even think of those words to say because I would NEVER have guessed them to be true!

I wasn’t sure what had just happened! All I could think about was that the answers were out there, and if I didn’t give up I would find them! That’s what I was told, but by whom? Who was it that spoke to me? Was it God? Was it Jesus? Was it an angel? I don’t know … all I know was that I indeed heard a voice, a voice that gave me hope when I thought there was none.

“Maybe I won’t do this just yet,” I thought as I lowered the gun. I went back to the dresser and carefully put the gun back in its hiding place. And that night as I was ready to go to bed, I kneeled down and prayed to God, only this time, I was humbled and grateful, and I only had one request.

“Oh Father in Heaven, I heard a voice that told me that the answers to my questions are out there and that I could find them if I don’t give up. Please, Father in Heaven … if your church really is out there somewhere, how will I know it? If it’s really out there, then please, please guide me to it.”

That was probably the simplest and the most humble prayer I have ever prayed. And it didn’t dawn on me then, but the next few years would bring about a drastic change in my life … not without sacrifice, but definitely for the better.

As I look back now I often wonder if God was testing me as he had tested Abraham. Did He want to see how badly I wanted to know His truths? How much I was willing to sacrifice in order to know them? When He saw that I was willing to die in order to find them, did He at that point, send an angel’s voice to stop me? I would like to think so. Perhaps one day I’ll discover who it was that saved my life.