And they follow me...

My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.

He wouldn't lead me to the bathroom of the high school to witness my daughter lying dead upon the bathroom floor; He wouldn't lead me to that moment watching her come from the high place of the noose, belt unwinding from her neck; He wouldn't lead me to this picture carved in this reality of her face whiter than stone, lips and tongue pushed out-- colorless...

He wouldn't lead me into this place of devastation without purpose.

What is His purpose?

I don't understand.

I don't understand.

I continued repeating this over and over and over and over. I couldn't cry. I couldn't scream. I couldn't think.

My eyes were full and vomiting-spewing the image of my child, the beautiful, intelligent, loving daughter-- the precious soul struggling with depression, anger, questions about life, God, relationships... she had given up, tired of trying and tired of hurting.

Only days before, she had climbed into bed with me and my younger children. Tears filled my eyes, and I remember she asked, "Mom, are you crying?" And I said, "I have all my babies in my arms. Life is so good." I thought we were moving through the darkness, and yes, Jesus was leading us through, but we still had the Valley of Death to face.

As the principal began CPR, I fell to my knees. No. No. God. No. Please, God. No.

When EMT arrived, they began to bag Ely. After several moments, they had a faint pulse and rushed her to the small hospital in town. The faces in the hallway at the high school... there were screams, loud cries... I spoke to one woman, a teacher I am friends with... what is happening? I have to get out of this place, away from these eyes staring at me. Hurting makes me want to bury my face in a pillow until everything comes out, and I can walk away and leave the pillow and the pain. Those pillow containers of our brokenhearts must have some type of homing device connected to us...

I ran to my car. I drove the 10 or so blocks to the hospital. I hid in my sister-in-law's office.

I didn't want to talk to anyone. I wanted to see Ely. They were working on her in the emergency room. Their eyes said, "Poor, Natalie. She is going to lose her daughter." It seemed like they all thought Ely would die.