Recently, I learned about the number of people who, out of hopelessness and fear, are considering suicide during these challenging times.

My parents went bankrupt when I was 16. It was profoundly humiliating to go from upper-middle class to being evicted; to go from shopping anywhere I wanted, to shopping at thrift stores; to go from watching my mother write a check for a shopping cart full of groceries, to checking pockets and under sofa cushions for spare change.

The stripping away of those things that constructed my “im- age,” as immature as it was, was incredibly painful. I’d call it “being taken down to the studs.” Yet as difficult as it was, it was in that pit of despair where I found Jesus, or better said, where Jesus found me. That torturous experience changed my life completely and there isn’t one thing about it I regret or that I would take back.

Twenty-six years ago, my husband nearly died of a ruptured appendix. We had three small children and I was pregnant with our fourth. I was the only one able to care for my husband, who was unable to work for six months; our children; and our homestead. I knew what it was like to lose everything, so in many ways, I was better prepared to walk through the valley of the shadow of death again, because this time I had been walking with Jesus for decades and my hope, confidence and trust in Him were greater than ever.

All of this to say, you’re going to be OK. Everything is going to work out. There’s new life after loss. Don’t be ashamed to ask for help. Don’t hesitate to call upon Jesus.

CATHERINE CRABILL

Irvington