By Sandra Bost
Written for National Suicide Prevention Week — for anyone walking through the shadows, and for those who stand watch in the dark.
I was around four years old when my momma last tried to take her life. Nearly twenty years later, my husband and I came home to an answering machine message from my momma’s momma telling us “Goodbye.”
Thankfully, we called 911 in time. Paramedics reached her, pumping the toxic pills from her stomach. She still had charcoal on her face when we arrived at the emergency room in Columbus, Georgia.
I am no stranger to the devastating aftermath of suicide. I have lived the dark days of walking alongside family through mental illness and spiritual hopelessness.
At four, no one explains what is happening or why Mommy is sad. But you don’t need words to know that you live under the shadow of generational trauma — it becomes the very air you breathe. You absorb it in the quiet tension, the unspoken secrets and the fragile spaces where joy ought to rest.
I was Momma’s guardian. My earliest memories are of sitting in a dark hallway outside her bedroom door, keeping watch.
Yet, as furiously as that shadow tried to reach across generations, it didn’t get the final word. Darkness was never powerful enough to stop the Light from shining through. Praise Jesus!
Looking back, 50 years later, the pieces are falling into place.
Physically, life was relentless for Momma and Memaw. My grandmother stood faithfully by her WWII veteran husband through a near-fatal wound, alcoholism, homelessness and the wreckage of a shattered hero. During one binge, left unprotected, my nine-year-old mother was abused by an older relative. Threatened into silence, she carried that dark secret alone while it ate away at her from the inside.
Spiritually, my grandfather lived in a tormenting crossfire between the
spirit and the flesh. He preached at a small Baptist church on Sundays, only to drown his war trauma in alcohol during the week. It was a heartbreaking, confusing reality. It left my mother and grandmother wrestling for years to untangle the holy nature of God from the broken man speaking for Him.
Mentally, the strain was exhausting. As a young mother of two, Memaw never knew if she could afford the light bill or clothing and feeding her children. Momma spent a lifetime trying to forget the horror done to her and forgive her daddy for leaving her vulnerable.
And don’t even get me started about the hormonal battle my matriarchs dealt with in a world that did not support their medical needs. Anxiety and despair took deep root in their minds, and it threatened to claim my mind and heart, too.
That furious shadow tried with all its might to define our family’s destiny. But shadows can only exist where light is present — and they are powerless when the Light Himself steps into the room. Darkness may have shaped our past, but Jesus ensured it wouldn’t write our ending. He gave Momma and Memaw strength to live in His light and fight the good fight to the very end. They finished their races and are now Home with Him. Thank You, Abba!
John 1:5 tells us, “The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (ESV). In his commentary, Jurica Sinko highlights that John used the Greek word phainei for “shines” — written in the present active indicative tense. The Light didn’t just shine once in the past. It shines. Now. Always. It is constantly invading enemy territory.
The Light is on the offensive — and since Jesus is the Light of the world (John 8:12), He gets the final word.
If you are walking through a valley of shadows today — exhausted from old family pain or carrying a heavy sadness you can’t shake — know this: you do not have to fix this yourself—you can’t! Just look up. The Light Himself is already standing in your dark room. Turn your heart toward Him right where you are, call out His name and allow Jesus to light up the shadows.
National Suicide Prevention Week reminds us to break the silence around mental health, but as believers, we are called to bring more than just awareness — we are called to bring a Savior. To those of us called to carry this Light into a world weighed down by hidden pain: RUN!
Run directly into the dark places. We do not carry a fragile flame snuffed out by someone else’s storm. We carry the living, triumphant presence of Christ Jesus!
Keep showing up. Keep praying over broken spaces with authority. Hold fast to the truth that no shadow is too dark and no soul is too far gone for the unrelenting grace of Jesus to rescue, reclaim and restore!
He was the final Word then. He is the final Word now. He will be the final Word forever.
Jesus IS the Light of the world!
