One lonely and desperate night, I sat on the side of the tub in the bathroom and prayed for guidance. The pain I endured crept as slowly as a blue heron preying on its next meal. I was done digging. The hole was deep enough. I needed a miracle.
I’m not exactly sure how long I was locked in the room, praying and pleading, when I heard what sounded like God’s voice: “Stand, Marlo. Look into the mirror. Look at yourself.”
I did. I knew what was coming would be scary, but it was my prayer being answered. This had also happened a few earlier times in my life when I felt lost and prayed for help.
The room was dark except for a bluish beam of light shining through the window from the full moon. I looked into the mirror. For several minutes I looked at my face, then past it, deep into my being.
My face darkened. It moved up, down, to the left, and the right. I thought I saw someone else looking back. Blinking, I shook my head and began crying. I wiped the tears, then stared deeper into my eyes. I couldn’t move.
Then my soul spoke to me. It told me to remember who I was and why I was here. It said I had gambled enough with my life. I was laying on the tracks, waiting to be run over. Now was the time to move, while I still could…