Prodigal Me

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I had wanted to die before. This, however, was the first time in my forty-four years that I needed it. I grasped the wheel and made up my mind to veer into the lane of the next semi headed my way. I thought little about who would be left behind or what they might say. My desire to die was too great to consider such selfless thoughts. Minutes passed until familiar headlights tumbled over the horizon. This was it. The pain would soon be gone. The shame would be silenced. Fear would finally be vanquished. My sweaty grip tightened as the lights quickly approached. My weakened voice began to mumble, "Oh, God, no. Oh, God, no. Oh, God, no." I felt my forearms cringe, closed my eyes and...the thunderous sound of the rig roared by me like a threatening lion. I immediately pulled to the side of the road, gasping for air and sobbing uncontrollably. And for the first time in quite a while I cried out to the Father I left behind, begging for help. This is the remarkable story of what happened next.