The Big Sandy Mountaineer -

Over the third weekend in September, my high school class (‘69) celebrated our 50th reunion in the Bay Area of California. We were a class of about 250 students. I was quite a bit more socially inhibited in those days, so I pretty much kept to my crew of about a half a dozen close friends. One of those close friends, perhaps the closest, was John Doe (not his real name).

John had continued to live in that part of the country. He had a successful dental practice, married, and had one beautiful daughter. John and I lived in the same suburban neighborhood and spent countless hours at each other’s house. Throughout jr. high and high school, we daily asked each other, “What do you want to do after school?” Then, we’d hook up with others for pick-up games of football, basketball, baseball, tennis, or golf. Every weekend, we hung out together looking for excitement, you know, teenage guy stuff. We were nearly inseparable. Then, we went off to college. Yes, the same college, University of California, Davis. We didn’t finally separate until John went off to dental school. My path took me to seminary in Minnesota and then to the first call as a pastor in North Dakota. I have lived away from my hometown for about 40 years and had eventually lost track of my friend, John.

I had wanted to attend my 50th class reunion, but I couldn’t get away this fall. Even so, I paid attention as best I could from a distance, as classmates posted reunion photos on social media. I recognized most names, but fewer faces, being surprised at how old these classmates had become. (LOL) I enjoyed lots of memories of those youthful days.

However, I never saw anything of my friend John. Eventually, I asked, “Was John Doe at the reunion?” Here is the message I received in return:

“Sadly, John lost his sight in one eye because of a stroke. He was no longer

practicing dentistry. Depression got the best of our dear John...sadly it was

suicide...sorry to have to let you know.”

Suicide? My friend, John? I was and still am stunned.

John had slid into a deep depression kicked off by the losses he had experienced. A stroke had resulted in the loss of sight in one eye. The loss of sight in one eye had led to the loss of his career. The loss of his career had also led to a loss of income and lifestyle. He and his wife could not make payments on their home in the hyper-expensive real estate market in northern California and were forced to move into an apartment. Loss upon losses led to a deep depression. But suicide? Suicide is such a permanent and final reaction to hardships and losses we are all going to experience sooner or later in one way, shape, or form. And suicide only increases the pain of loss for those we leave behind.

Yes, losses are hard. They can be depressingly and devastatingly hard to handle. Sometimes the most challenging thing we do as human beings is move forward with dignity and grace in the face of loss. It takes courage, and courage can feel impossible when dragged into the dark pit of depression. I won’t minimize this challenge. However, I will maximize Help, Home, and Hope in the face of loss and depression.

First, help is available. We need to break the stigma about depression and become free to talk about it and ask for help from family, friends, and the helping professions, that is, from counselors and medical professionals. It is not a weakness to ask for help, and there are many, many people available to help.

Second, having a rich sense of home can serve as an antidote to disabling depression. Home is more than a house. Home is people, family, friends, and that whole community of people who know your name and regard you as valuable. Home is not so much about possessions. Possessions come and go, but home is where you are welcomed and valued. It is a place to hide when we need to grieve our losses. It is also a place to heal and receive the courage to get back up, dust ourselves off, and move forward.

Third, hope keeps us facing the future with the belief that good things will come our way. Without hope, our past reminds us of everything we have lost, and our present promises more of the same. Hope, however, is a way of looking at each day that says, “Something good will come to me today.” No matter the hardship, hope keeps us resilient, bouncing back from losses.

Help, Home, Hope. As a Christian person, these three are critical gifts of my relationship with God. I could say that the whole Christian message is about that Help, Home, and Hope which God gives to us. No long sermon here. Don’t worry. Just a little nudge to seek Help, Home, and Hope so that your losses can be met with the courage to live on.