Out of Our Hands

I just heard the press release about Pastor Rick Warren's son who committed suicide.  The story of this young man is all too familiar by now - a kind, good person who was well liked and cared about other people, who had a life-long struggle with mental illness and depression.  The pastor's son, Matthew, had actually spent the evening with his parents, and then when he went home ended his life.

I am so sorry for the family and for Matthew.  It is so frustrating that this loss of life cannot be stopped.

When I hear these things now, and then go to scan a little information about what happened, my brain seems to have a radar system for certain phrases that are written and remarks that are made.

For this young man's story, the first things that compute for me are:

• Rick Warren is a pastor and author, living in California, a leader of people, with a comfortable financial situation I am sure.  So as much as I know in my brain that these things don't matter, my heart lurches and there is a voice in my head that is screaming, "How can it be that this poor man could not find a way to help his son?  How can it be that he is smart, spiritual, and wealthy, and he could not accomplish what I am sure was his heart's greatest desire - to provide a cure for his son that would allow him the joy and stability in life he deserved?"
• Trailing close behind that of course is the thought that I did not have the resources of this man, so no wonder I couldn't help my son.
• The press release offered by the family stressed that they lost their son in spite of years of medical intervention and therapy, that he, like my Erik, had struggled for nearly ten years to conquer his demons, to overcome his depression. 
• The reports also say that Matthew was especially kind and compassionate to others, wanting others to be happy in spite of his own sadness.  This also reminded me of my son.
• And finally, my heart broke reading that they had just been with him, watched him leave to go home, and had no idea that there lives were soon to be torn apart with that horrible shock and grief we all experience when we first learn we have lost our loved one.

I can't seem to come to grips with the fact that this keeps happening.  I suppose that if we haven't found a medical cure for some cancers, there is no reason to think we should have a fool-proof cure for depression and mental illness.  It is such a cliche to say it seems "unfair" that some families have this as their destiny, but it does seem unfair.  It is too sad. 

So I go to my place in my heart where I believe that we have to accept that this is a part of our humanity, that some of us were meant to be here for a shorter time than others, and for those left behind, we must take care of each other, embrace our memories, and move forward.

But for today, my heart is with the Warren family, and I am so sorry that they have to be so sad.  My condolences to them.