Bob Jones

I ran into the house clammy and panicked. I did not want to be alone. But, I also unquestionably did not want to share my tormenting thoughts with anyone else. Are You OK? Concerned by my frantic behavior, my husband asked, “Are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I lied, as I handed off the kids for bedtime. I hurried to my bedroom. “How does God deal with suicide? Would I really go to hell? How would my family deal with it? Would I ever actually have the guts to do it?” I locked my door, longing to leave these forceful thoughts on the other side of it, but they followed me to my bed, the place I always ran to when…