Suicidal

Dear Jesus,

My day would have been perfect of not for the major bump we encountered in the road.

Sighs. I love Sundays so much now that I feel all the remaining days of the week should be cancelled and only Sunday should exist.

I mean, there's no school, no fear of what Genevie and her crew can try next and no heart attack about the coming exams.

Well, this morning I woke up, thanks be to you. I actually woke up earlier than usual. The clock read 2:30am but I couldn't go back to sleep.

After tossing about on my bed for sometime, I started worshipping you. Your presence, I felt it.

I slid into prayers of intercession. I prayed for Lydia and the other orphans at Arrows Children Orphanage. As I prayed, compassion swelled in my heart for the remaining orphans all over the world who are naked, hungry, homeless and abused. I couldn't stop my tears at the thought of them. I prayed with all my heart, asking you to watch over these children.

While I was praying, a vision of an execution hanging rope flashed through my spiritual eyes. It was so clear. Almost immediately, I knew I had to pray against suicidal spirit. The urgency was so much that it pressed on my spirit like a burden, even more intense than what I felt while I was interceeding for dad on that fateful day.

My prayers translated into groanings. It was like I was in labor. I pleaded to you for mercy, crying for all the people I could think of, asking you to prevent them from taking their own lives. That the Holy Spirit should go and minister to any heart that the accuser has been ranting lies to. I kept on till about thirty minutes afterwards when I felt a slight release.

My Bible reading was from the book of Lamentations 2:19

Arise, cry out in the night, at the beginning of the watches! Pour out your heart like water before the presence of the Lord! Lift your hands to him for the lives of your children, who faint for hunger at the head of every street.

What other confirmation did I need? I believed you had heard my prayers.

By the time I was done, I realised the time had travelled faster than I thought. 6:16am! And we had to be at the church by 7:00am. You know, my dad's the senior pastor and all that. I could already hear the rustling of my parents downstairs.

I made a quick dash for the shower.

Mom came to knock on my door while I was under the shower. She must have been thinking I was still in dreamland. How wrong, mom! If only you know how long I've been awake.

"My Star", mom said, "are you up?"

"I'm awake Mom. Will meet you in a jiffy." I yelled over the sound of my running shower in reply.

Hurriedly, I wore my clothes: A straight, knee-length black skirt and white top with the words 'Jesus Saves' inscribed on it in bold red letters. To compliment, I donned my red and black colored high heeled sandal. I wore golden cross earrings, a cross pendant on my necklace and my golden wristwatch which my parent got for me as a present on my 15th birthday.

I packed my Bible, jotter and pen into my black tote bag and literarily raced out my room to the ground floor of the house headed to the dining table in our kitchen.

"Hey, hey, hey. Easy. At this rate, you're gonna trip and hurt yourself," dad said.

He was wearing a black suit and stripped red shirt. Mom, who was sitted opposite him, looked absolutely gorgeous in her simple black gown and red fascinator. All three of us wore the same three colors. I made a mental note to get us together for a group picture later as I pecked dad and mom on the cheek and greeted them.

I sat to catch my breath from my mini race. After that, I ate my milk ladden custard and fruits breakfast so fast that I'm sure a starved lion would be ashamed.

We got to church in record time. 7:06am Whew!

Mrs Carey, the church secretary, Pastor Henry, Mr Faithful and other ministers and workers were already present. We prayed for about thirty minutes for your presence to take charge of the service.

Pastor Henry who was leading the prayer session, paused the prayer and said the Holy Spirit wants us to pray against death, particularly in form of a suicidal spirit, operating in the life of any member of the church.

Wow! That's the same prayer burden you gave me this morning Lord. I was simply shocked at the fact.

Well, pray I did. We all did. The burden which still lingered in me slowly slid off my chest.

I taught the kids Sunday school. The topic was 'Love Your Neighbor'. Those kids can kill someone with questions. Take for example, Kevin (Mr Faithful's third child, 6 year old) asked me if He must still love his elder sister who took his own share of the sweet their dad got them yesterday. His said, sister, Mariam (10 year old) was glaring daggers at him from where she sat.

Cat (told you 'bout her before) asked if we are to love drunkards, murderers and the likes.

It was only through your help that I managed to give them satisfactory answers. They rained them questions on me like a meteor shower.

The time given for the Sunday school was barely enough. Thankfully there's going to be a continuation of the lesson next week Sunday.

The main service was very full of your presence. I enjoyed every bit of it. The message daddy preached titled Holy Fire helped to whet my appetite for the Holy Spirit.

When the service was over, we stayed behind as usual. Dad was trapped among a set of members who were greeting him and talking to him.

His eyes locked with mine as he scanned the auditorium. He mouthed "Save me" and sent a pitiful visage my way. I smiled back at him sympathetically and gave him a thumbs up.

Mom finished up her meeting with the choir and moved outside to make a call.

She came back in with an expression on her face I couldn't quite decipher and whispered into dad's ear something I couldn't make out.

Whatever it was seemed urgent as dad hurriedly went over to Pastor Henry and gestured to me to follow them to our Lexus Jeep in the parking lot of the church. I was still in the dark as to what was going on.

Dad was driving and Mom briefed us about the situation on ground. She had been calling all the women she noticed didn't come to church as was her custom. She called a particular mother of two girls, Mrs Trimon and was alarmed by the sobs that greeted her on the phone.

Mrs Trimon informed mom that her first daughter, Felicia, had tried killing herself by taking an overdose of a sedative drug.

Mrs Trimon had gone to wake Felicia to get ready for church service. She tapped her severally but she wasn't budging at all. It was then she noticed a suicide note in her clenched fist.

She raised an alarm.

Her husband, Mr Trimon and the little sister, Patricia raced the unconscious Felicia to First Hope hospital, which was where we were headed to.

I gasped as realisation dawned on me. After Mr Henry said his part of how God prompted him to pray against suicide, I also related my own experience to the astonishment of everyone. Our only solace was in the fact that we believe you answered our prayers.

We got there. Patricia was still in her Pj's in a disheveled state which I guess was as a result of not having a bath and the shock of the incident. I went over to comfort her.

Mr Trimon's face was grave while his wife's eyes were rimmed with tears and her face was ashen. Upon inquiry, they told us that Felicia was still in surgery.

The doctor had said a dangerously high amount of Cyproheptadine, a strong sedative, was what was ingested into her system and was shutting down her organs. They had to resort to an emergency surgery in a bid to remove the excess and save her life. We continued earnest prayers for Freda.

A few minutes later, the surgeon in charge came out and said the surgery was successful and that she was alive.

They succeeded in removing ninety percent of the sedative from her body while they'll have to wait for the effect of the remaining ten percent to wear out with time.

However, they met with a shocking discovery. Felicia was six weeks pregnant!