At 2 a.m., the lights in my bedroom switched on, and my 17-year-old daughter cried, “Mom, I swallowed a lot of pills.”
It had been a rough autumn, and I knew we were all stressed; but I was not prepared for this. I struggled to wake myself, to make sense of what was happening, as I bundled us into the car and drove to the hospital.
I have no measure of how many youth leaders suddenly face a personal family crisis each year. I’m sure I’m not alone. I know others are or will be facing medical crises, mental health crises, and legal crises. Know that you are not alone. You are not alone.
As my daughter and I raced to the emergency room, my mind was careening from thought to thought. Somewhere in the midst of it, I remember that I prayed, “Oh, God, please keep her safe.” It was a rough sort of prayer, born of chaos and desperation, but I believe God answers our rough prayers just as readily as He answers our well-formed ones. So, I prayed as I could.
The first minutes and hours, I was focused entirely on what needed to be done: Get in the car, get to the hospital, get to the emergency room, get to a doctor. I think I was in shock. It was only later, after my daughter had been admitted to the ER, after she had been moved to the critical care unit, that the emotional flood gates opened. I remember feeling overwhelmed by all that was happening, unable to make simple decisions. I remember wanting to lock myself in a room and cry. I remember wanting it all to go away.
My daughter would end up spending 18 hours in the ER as we waited for a room, and then 24 hours in the critical care unit before she was transferred to a locked, adolescent, psychiatric unit. She would spend almost a week there, receiving a diagnosis of severe depression.
Almost a week after her overdose, my daughter returned home. The following days and weeks were filled with medical appointments and counseling. We were beyond the immediate crisis, but the aftershocks continued to be felt weeks and months later.
I was not prepared for the shame I felt. I felt shame in front of the medical staff in the emergency room and in the critical care unit. I felt shame in front of my own family. I feel shame now, writing this paragraph. What kind of parent doesn’t realize his or her child is in such pain? What kind of parent misses the signs (subtle and few as they were)? Am I fit for ministry? What kind of youth leader am I?
Shame is malignant. Shame eats us from the inside out, ultimately killing our souls. The only thing I know—the only Person I know—who consistently is able to cut through my shame is Jesus. I remember the woman at the well in John 4 and the woman caught in adultery in John 7, and I remind myself that God’s grace is great enough for my shame. God’s grace is the balm that heals my pain.
I struggled in my ministry in the days and months following our crisis. It was hard to lead the youth group while my daughter was still hospitalized. The presence of her friends brought me joy and at the same time reminded me of her absence. I struggled to focus, and my attention often was scattered. Thankfully, other adults picked up many of the details of ministry, and I carried on as best I could. Many adults covered ministry events so I could be with my daughter. We moved youth leadership meetings to my home so I did not have to leave her alone once she returned home. Yet many of these same adults do not know to this day why we did this. Their willingness to do whatever was needed was an incredible gift, full of grace.
In the midst of our family’s crisis, my sense of self was impacted. I felt as if I were a lousy parent. I questioned my fitness for ministry. How had I contributed to my daughter’s illness? How had I failed to recognize it? How could I minister to others when I was so desperately in need of ministry myself?
Seeking Answers, Finding Hope
It’s not unusual to feel a host of emotions when crises hit: fear, sadness, anger. In those early days, I admit I was angry at God. How could God allow this to happen to my amazing daughter? Why didn’t God protect her? I didn’t doubt God’s presence or His love, but God was the safest Person toward whom I could direct my anger.
A crisis can evoke a lot of emotion. A sense of powerless can overwhelm family members as they attempt to navigate the medical and/or legal systems. Doctors may disagree about the best medications and treatments; lawyers may differ on the best legal strategy. When a child or spouse is in crisis, we can help by advocating for them. We can keep track of details, follow up on leads, and participate in decision making whenever possible. We can be their eyes and ears.
While I don’t have all of the answers, I know what I faced in our family crisis, and I know that addressing these in your life when you reach a crisis point will be vital to your survival.
Communicating the Crisis
With any crisis, there are numerous questions that must be addressed, and one of the most important questions is, “Who do I tell?” My daughter wanted as few people to know as possible, and I wanted to respect her privacy and honor that decision. At the same time, in an extended family such as ours that regularly gathers for meals, it is hard to disappear for a week without notice. I would discuss with my daughter each time before we told someone. In the end, we let the extended family, our pastor and a doctor-friend know about the situation. I let my bosses know, as I was taking time off from work to be with her. I let very few close and trusted friends know, because I needed a safe place to process what was happening.
When possible, talk with your family about how and with whom to share information about your crisis. Should you tell your pastor? Should you put your family on your church prayer list? Should you tell your friends? Whoever you tell, make sure they are people you can trust. Don’t assume people will know to keep your story confidential. If you want the details to remain private, say so.
Self-Care
In the midst of family crises, it is important to take care of yourself. If you are spiritually and physically depleted, it’s hard to help your child or spouse. One of the most important ways to care for yourself is through prayer. Prayer allows you to renew yourself spiritually. Prayer reminds you and restores you to the Source of all healing. Prayer reconnects you with God. Your prayers don’t have to be beautiful. Your prayers don’t need words. Sometimes tears are the best prayers, especially in the midst of a crisis.
I would find myself, often at unexpected times, in tears. I asked God why this had happened. How could He let this happen? How could He let this beautiful young woman be in such pain? Could He heal her? Would He heal her? At times, it all felt overwhelming.
I found that I had to be intentional about taking care of myself physically and spiritually. It was easy to become so consumed with my daughter’s care that I forgot to eat and struggled to sleep. I was often on the verge of tears. I found solace in moments of quietness and prayer. The tears were still there…but God was present, as well.
Sleep and Eat
Sleep is an important part of self-care. If your child is in the hospital, you probably will be there, too. Hospitals are not the best places for sleep. Whether you are sleeping in the hospital or at home, sleep may elude you. Once we were both home, I still did not always sleep well.
Prayer became an important part of preparing for sleep. Praying “Compline” from The Book of Common Prayer became a part of our nightly ritual and helps remind me that I am safely in God’s arms. I slept better when I went to bed with the prayers of “Compline” on my lips:
Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or
weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who
sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless
the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the
joyous; and all for your love’s sake. Amen. (Book of Common Prayer, p. 134)
Eating is also important. The body’s tendency toward fight or flight means we may not feel hungry in the midst of a crisis. During our stay in the hospital, I lost several pounds, though the hospital staff would send me my own tray of food. I found that having healthy food that I liked made it more likely that I would eat. Your body needs nourishment, just as your soul does.
Keeping a Log
Write it down. Keep notes. Whatever the crisis, document it. These notes may be important later, when there are questions. They definitely will be important in the present as you process what is happening. Some people may prefer to document the facts. For others, these notes will be a journal, a way to grapple with reality. My daughter and I have found that a notebook in which we write back and forth to each other to be very helpful. It allows us to ask each other questions and give detailed answers to which we can return as often as necessary. One of my daughter’s first questions was, “Why am I depressed and nobody else in our family is?” I wrote a long answer…
Counseling
Counseling is also an important part of self-care. My daughter is in counseling, and we are in family counseling together. I realized early that I also needed counseling to help me deal with all the thoughts and emotions our crisis evoked. If you are dealing with the long-term aftershocks of a family crisis, see a counselor. Find a counselor with whom you feel comfortable and can trust.
I was reluctant at first to see my own counselor. Not only was it yet another appointment in a life already crammed with medical appointments, but it also felt as if it were a failure. It also was a relief to sit down and talk in a safe setting. We explored my feelings of powerless and brainstormed ways I could help my daughter, as well as take care of myself.
I don’t have answers to all of these questions, but I do know I am not the same person I was before. I know God uses whatever I lay before Him to touch others. Can God use this crisis in ways I can’t imagine? Yes, He can. Although I’m not the person I was before—perhaps because I am not the person I was before—God can still use me, too.
A crisis rips open the fabric of family. A crisis can demolish our own sense of self, of who we are. Whether your family member is in prison or in the hospital, know that you are not alone. Know that Jesus is walking with you and that He never will forsake you. Know that there is healing: healing from the overdose, as well as ongoing emotional and physical healing. It is slow, but there is healing. There is hope, and there is thanksgiving. I would not have chosen to have my daughter attempt suicide, but I am thankful it happened at home where I could make sure she got immediate care. I am thankful for God’s protection in the nearby emergency room and for His provision of caring doctors and nurses who went out of their way to help us. Giving thanks transforms and reorients me in the midst of crisis. Giving thanks reminds me there is a bigger story, and I am part of it. Giving thanks acknowledges God’s presence and mercy.
