Mental Health, Suicide, and Resurrection Living

Sometimes you meet a person at Strawberry Fields, an apartment in DC, and as bridesmaids in a wedding, but it takes over 25 years, a tragedy, and a morning show interview for you to realize how much that person will change your life....that's how I know Dona.

If I'm remembering correctly, the last time Dona and I saw each other in person, or at least for any length of time, was at my cousins wedding in 1994. The thing about our family, is once you're a part of it, you're a part of it, and you get us all--siblings, cousins, parents, grandparents--the whole kit and kaboodle for better or worse.  I didn't see Dona and her beautiful family over the years, but I kept up with her through my cousin-and of course social media!

Cousins' Weekend 2019 Beth was catching me up on people we both knew and mentioned Morgan had been struggling a little with an injury and asked me to keep her in my prayers. I had no idea in less than a week Beth would call me with the news that Morgan had died by suicide. This was the third young adult in less than 5 weeks that I knew who had died by suicide. I had no idea what to say or do beyond daily prayers. My heart broke for these families.  

A month or so after Morgan died, I sent Dona a book on grief. I prayed daily and followed her on social media. I didn't know what else to do. Dona and her family did.

During the late spring of 2020, Dona began to post "cryptic" (in a fun way) messages about something big that was going to launch. I begged my cousin to find out what it was. I cannot explain why I felt so drawn (obsessed) with this. Morgan's Message launched on the year anniversary of Morgan's death. "Morgan's Message strives to eliminate the stigma surrounding mental health within the student-athlete community and equalize the treatment of physical and mental health in athletics. We aim to expand the dialogue on mental health by normalizing conversations, empowering those who suffer in silence, and supporting those who feel alone." Morgan's Message

I could write on and on about the good Morgan's Message has done over the last 15 months. I could wax poetically about the speed with which this organization has taken off across college and high school campuses changing and yes, I believe, saving lives. And I'm happy to, as a bystander and cheerleader, but it's not my story. I do believe, however, it's part of The Story.

Last night I watched an interview Dona gave last week. Dona's Brave Interview I began to shake as it became very clear to me what kept me so drawn to this story (other than my love for the family as people who were living the unimaginable). Dona and Morgan's Message was and is telling the story of the resurrection. They are living out an Easter people faith.  In an instant I understood in a whole new way what it meant to be Easter People, what it meant to live into the resurrection. Morgan's struggles were Good Friday. I don't know how long she lived in her Good Friday or how long her family and friends, even unknowingly did, but they did. When Morgan died, Holy Saturday. stretched out before this beautiful family and all who loved Morgan. But out of Good Friday and the depths of Good Saturday pain, Morgan's Message was born and there was resurrection--the birth of and the healing of many. 

Let me be very clear. I do not believe for one single solitary minute that God wanted Morgan to suffer and die. I do not believe this was God's plan so that Morgan's Message could be born. I also don't believe God wanted Jesus to suffer and die. Jesus died because of the brokenness and pain in the world. And so did Morgan. Jesus rose from the dead on Easter Sunday, but that does not erase Good Friday or Holy Saturday or all the days before--the days of laughter and healing and fellowship. Morgan's Message doesn't erase Morgan's life. 

As a mother, I think even knowing Jesus rose again, defeated death, and initiated the Kingdom of God, Mary would still rather he had not been tortured and crucified. I imagine she never got those images out of her mind, and I wonder if she still thought about what she could have done (the answer is nothing) to have changed the way things happened. 

Thanks to Dona and Morgan's Message, I understand what resurrection living looks like. It's not puppies, and unicorns, and rainbows. It's trusting that God truly can and will use all things for good. It's believing that even when the world brings about evil and brokenness, the world NOT GOD, God can bring healing and wholeness.

It's not about forgetting. It's about remembering. Re-membering.

This post was written by me. No one at Morgan's Message asked me to write. They've never asked anything of me, but they are my favorite non-profit. If you feel called, you can Donate here or buy merchandise here. If you are a high school or college student and would like to get involved, find out more here. 

M. Morgan’s Message strives to eliminate the stigma surrounding mental health within the student-athlete community and equalize the treatment of physical and mental health in athletics. We aim to expand the dialogue on mental health by normalizing conversations, empowering those who suffer in silence, and supporting those who feel alone. organ’s Message strives to eliminate the stigma surrounding mental health within the student-athlete community and equalize the treatment of physical and mental health in athletics. We aim to expand the dialogue on mental health by normalizing conversations, empowering those who suffer in silence, and supporting those who feel alone.

Soccer Drills and the Kingdom of God

Our family moved to Atlanta in January of 1977. I was in third grade. That spring I started playing soccer. I didn't start playing because I was in love with the game (frankly, I didn't even know what it was), but rather because all my new friends played. Oh, and my parents wouldn't let me play football.                                                                                                                       

I didn't start playing because I was in love with the game, but almost instantly I was, and at the risk of not being humble, I was good. (I mean I did make the boys varsity team in the ninth grade--and I was on the select state championship team in 1981...just sayin'--and now I'm uncomfortable, kind of.) Anyway, I started playing and never stopped until I blew my knee out in the 10th grade.

I flirted with midfield and defense (my midfield story and scoring the winning goal in overtime of the state semi-finals is quite a good one!), but my true love was playing in the goal. From the goal, I could see and direct the field. It was like I was one with the game; it made sense to me, and my body responded seemingly on autopilot. 

I've watched a lot of soccer over the years, but last week....

I was in Virginia and I went to see the Randolph women's soccer game. I was middle school girl giddy. I know and love several of the girls who were playing, and I just couldn't wait to watch them play. I was not prepared for what happened.

I was mesmerized. As I watched the game, all the feelings came back. I looked at #22, #11, and the goalie, and I knew what they were thinking. I could feel their feelings. I could read the ball and the field. It was like I became one with the game, and my body and mind just knew. It was exhilarating, freeing, and indescribable.

Now to return to my not so humble declaration that I was good. I was. I had some natural talent, but I also worked my patootie off. I spent HOURS both with the team and individually practicing. I studied plays. I watched film. I replayed games in my head and talked incessantly about could of's and should of's. I did the same drills over and over and over. It's been years since I've been on a field or practiced any drills, but last Wednesday my body and my mind kicked in, and just knew.

I've been thinking a lot about what happened last week and about spiritual practices and faith. We read the same scriptures over and over. We pray the same prayers. When we go to worship, sometimes it can seem so repetitive, and maybe sometimes we even wonder, "what's the point?" It feels like nonstop drills with no game. 

I've been thinking about all those Sundays my husband and I wrestled (literally) our four children into their "uniforms" and headed out the door to church--many times we needed absolution immediately upon arrival! I've been thinking about the times we were so exhausted at night and just wanted the children to go to bed, but we took the time (most nights) to say prayers. Some of our children attend church now more frequently than others. But here's the thing, Proverbs 22:6 tells us, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." 

Daily life is the game. Some games are easy peasy.  We don't have to think much or even try too hard, but every once in a while, BAM! We have an encounter with someone, a diagnosis comes, a struggle, or any number of things, and we are struggling to just stay in the game. We may even want to give up, but all those "drills" kick in, and we find we have the strength, the skills, the fortitude to keep going. Our minds and bodies just know what to do. The game is life, and we play for the Kingdom...

PS--That winning goal in the semi-finals, total luck! Coach moved me from the goal into the field to keep me from getting hurt in hopes we would make it to the finals. The ball came to me, and I just kicked it. I had no idea what I was doing which may be why the goalie missed it--she probably thought the same thing!