Our whole lives we are taught to run away from danger. Our parents teach us about stranger danger from an early age. They tell us if someone we don’t know tries to get us into their car, or give us candy, or lure us away that we are to scream and run. In schools we practice locking down and running away from intruders. We are to put as much distance between us and the bad guy that we safely can. Run away. Get away. One large portion of the adrenal mechanism that we are created with is flight. Running away in moments of life-threatening danger. Run! Get away!
Often in this journey that I am on, I have wanted to run away. To get in my car and leave. Drive for hours. Start over. Don’t tell anyone where I’m going and just begin again. I don’t. Well, I don’t anymore. There were some points in my journey that it just got to be too much and I did “run away.” One time I went to the office of the school where I worked and told them I needed a half day of sick leave. I needed to go home and I wasn’t feeling well. But I really just needed to run away. To get away. To get in my car and go sit on a beach for a few hours and just forget the world.
We all run away in our own way. Brian used to drive to SeaTac and sit and watch the planes taking off and landing. This thought occurred to me while I was at one of my favorite “run away” methods - in the middle of the Zac Brown Band concert with my friend. Music is one of my run aways. And in the middle of the concert time froze for just a second as I watched the airplanes flying over the top of Safeco Field one after another. For one moment my husband’s “flight plan” intersected with my “flight plan” and time stood still. Tears filled my eyes as I remembered him in his moments in the middle of mine. We all need to just run away. Get away. The pressure of dealing with it all can be so crushing. It’s hard to breathe. It’s hard to see the path. It’s tough to find the message in the mess. So we run away. Whether it be in music. Or movies. Or watching airplanes. Or sports. Or diving. Whatever our method is for hiding from it all when it all gets to be too much.
Except my husband couldn’t find solace in the airplanes anymore. His running away got to the point where the only relief he saw was in suicide. Exiting this world became his plan. Leaving the wife and the children that were his family and his world was the only option. The planes weren’t enough. Why on earth weren’t the planes enough?
Well, they should have never been enough. Hope has to be built on more than airplanes or music or movies. Those things are good temporary escapes from the responsibilities and emotions of life. But they are not enough to pull us up and out of the yuck. There’s only one thing that offers permanent hope, a permanent fix, a permanent solution to the pain or sadness or grief or chaos that we find ourselves in. We have to be anchored to our Creator. To God. To the one who knows us inside and out. Deuteronomy 31:8 says “It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.”
Read that again. The first part especially. “It is the Lord who goes BEFORE you.” He’s there, waiting. Any situation you may find yourself in, He will be right there from the very beginning. Ready to catch you when you fall. Ready to wipe your tears. Ready to pick you up and dust you off and set you on the right path again. He will never leave us or forsake us. In our darkest hours, on the darkest path, He is right there in front of us, simply waiting for us to finally admit we can’t run away, we can’t do it alone, and we need to take His hand and walk through it all.
September is National Suicide Prevention Month. I am painfully aware of the need for awareness to be brought to this topic. There isn’t a day, isn’t a moment that goes by that I don’t sink back to 2010 and think about Brian. The increasing absences. The frequent visits to the airport. He was running away. Trying to find the solace in his airplanes. When that didn’t work, instead of turning to God and crying out for help, he chose to slip into a forever sleep. My heart breaks when I think about Brian, and the countless others who couldn’t run away far enough from their pain. There’s a fine line, I think, between running away for a while and running away forever. We need conversations around suicide. We need to talk about it. We need to be willing to speak with a friend or a family member or a coworker and let them know that you care, that there is help, that you are there to listen when the running away doesn’t work. And the other side of that coin too! We need to find a person, a friend, a prayer partner, to turn to when running away stops working and the darkness seems to be taking over.
So, stop running away and instead choose to run into Heavenly Father’s open arms. He’s ahead of you, waiting in the mess, patient in the trials, pausing to scoop you up, hold you close, and carry you back to where you belong. So, I’ll run away to my concerts, or run away to the beach, but I always know that when I get there, my God is waiting and watching, filling me with His grace and mercy. He will never leave me nor forsake me, and I hope each and every one of you accepts this truth for yourselves too.
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