Leave A Light On

"Come on, my little ruin, won’t you open up and let us in?
Time has not been kind, but you're still standing here.
Leave a light on in your window, won’t you let me see a sign?
It’s gonna take more than smoke and mirrors now for me this time"
 -  My Little Ruin, by Glen Hansard


September 10th is National Suicide Prevention Day. This year, it was also the day in which a woman I've worked with in Casa Adalia attempted to take her life.

Maybe it grows wearisome to read my essays about suicide prevention. I know I write about it a lot. In all honestly, I feel I have good reason to do so: in my two-and-a-half years in Ecuador, I've encountered four attempted and actual suicides. 

:: Two women I've work with at Casa Adalia (one who tried more than once).
:: The teenage son of fellow mission workers.
:: The man whose suicide attempt (driving 90 miles per hour the wrong lane while over medicated) caused the death of my aunt and cousin. (He then took his life the day before the case went to trial).


When I heard the news about the woman at Casa Adalia, I was angry. I was swearing furious. I realized, quickly, that my anger masked a deep fear and grief, but I held on it, not wanting to feel anything else. I heard the news when *Phil called and asked me to be in charge of the Casa Gabriel boys that day, handling lunch and taking them to play soccer. He had been in the hospital all night  with Debbie and they hoped to get a few hours rest. I was warming up a mug of coffee when he called. Afterwards, I flitted about the kitchen, opening cabinets and taking things in and out of the freezer, trying to decide whether it was best to cook for the boys or take them out for lunch. I decided to make tacos, gathering up ingredients, bursting with productivity and anger.
"She's come so far," I thought. "There are a dozen people who love her and are there for her. Why didn't she reach out for help? Why did she give up?"

I had been to Casa Adalia earlier in the week. As I came in the front door, "Ana" had run upstairs sobbing, locking herself in her room. Truthfully, she is dramatic. She has a big personality which can make her a good leader ... or a bad influence, depending on her choices. That day she was weeping because she had been messaging with her family. The ones who trafficked her to a brothel when she was a young teen. The ones who continuously lied and manipulated to try and get her to return and be a little money-making slave once again. Because it is her family, and she feels obligated to help them if she can, it has taken everything the staff has to keep her safe and out of their entrapment. But we can't stop her from talking to them if she chooses. We can't stop her being emotionally hurt.


Ana is home from the hospital. I haven't talked to her yet, though I've envisioned that conversation many times. In the first vision, anger continues to course through me. I want her to see and feel it. I want her to know that what she did wasn't just sad or frightening, it was hurtful on an extreme level. It was so utterly foolish - to throw away everything - that I want to shake her. It was a betrayal. I know; her pain and darkness and confusion must have overwhelmed her. I know; maybe she thought that by taking herself out of the equation, everyone else would be better off. Thankfully, she felt regret and a change of heart very quickly after taking the pills, which was how Debbie and others were able to get her to the hospital in time. My fear, which is coming out sideways as anger, is that she'll try again and there won't be time for a change of mind, or to save her.


I'm processing through everything with trusted friends. Praying for Ana and that she remembers all the hope and healing if she again feels despair. Praying that she won't try again. Praying the other girls and staff can handle and process Ana's attempt in a healthy way. Anger feels more powerful than sorrow in a powerless situation. Towards the end of a long day, I pushed back tears, preferring to swear than cry. As much as I may post about suicide prevention and have open conversations, there will still be those who try and do. No anger or any other emotion can stop it.

So let us continue to have open conversations with real emotions. Let us not be crushed by the things we've experienced, again and again, but spurred on to action. Let us not be still, let us not be silent.




*Phil is the director of Casa Gabriel, the home for boys living on the streets, and his wife Debbie is the director of Casa Adalia, the home for girls rescued from human trafficking.