[Content Warning: Discussion of Suicide]
One of the things I feel I am most put on this earth to do is to communicate and demonstrate the value and worth of every single person on this planet.
I want to live and speak in a way that shows that you are worthy and you are loved.
Last week was the one year anniversary for when dear Savannah, someone I thought of as an adopted daughter, died by suicide. Recently two others, in different areas of my life, have also died by suicide, while others I know are wresting with suicidal ideation.
I feel powerless. And in Savannah’s case, I am powerless to change that permanent reality.
But I can do something. I can say to you: you are loved. You are worthy. You are valuable—as you are, and not for what you do, what you accomplish, or what others think of you.
I say this as a person of faith, and I need to say this message again to those in faith communities— because sometimes, that central message of “You are loved” gets buried under expectations of behavior and image. The message of value can get swallowed in shame.
But it is the very fact of your creation by God that gives you value, and not a single thing you’ve done or haven’t done can erase that.
If you’re not a person of faith, I think the message is still true. In a world that constantly values our appearance and accomplishments, our wealth and influence, the true thing that gives each of us value is simply that we exist.
So if you’re struggling, I hope you’ll hear me say: You are worthwhile, valuable, and loved! Just because you exist!
And if you are struggling, I hope you’ll reach out to someone you know—or if not, that you’ll call 9-8-8 or find other resources. The world needs YOU and all you bring to it!
I want to share part of what I shared when I spoke at Savannah’s service last year, in hopes that these words can help you see your value and your worth.
You might think, “How can you say that about me? You don’t even really know me.”
The truth is, that’s how revolutionary this unconditional value is. I don’t have to know you. Because your value is based on your existence, not your accomplishments.
A good part of what I shared at Savannah’s service were words I had written more than a decade ago, in letters to Savannah and other “adopted daughters.”
My hope is that sharing the following might speak truth to you. I’ve done some editing to clarify these words for a more public and general situation.
We have to acknowledge that there are and always will be so many unanswered questions after death by suicide.
I can’t answer them. I can’t make the hurt go away. I can’t make sense of it, or explain things enough so that our brains calm down and go, “Oh, ok, I’m ok now.”
No.
Our brains don’t like uncertainty like this. We look for answers that make sense, and there aren’t any when someone kind and good like Savannah is no longer here, is gone decades too soon.
I acknowledge and name that my brain, too, is reeling at this loss. It is often spinning and trying to make sense of it. Grasping at anything, no matter how out there.
So rather than try to find words when there are no words…how do we find strength to move forward?
That’s what I want to try and do today. I think that’s what Savannah would try and do if she were here, too. She would try to help us all find strength to move forward—one minute, one hour, one day, one month at a time.
The first time I went to therapy, almost 20 years ago, I was fighting depression.
For me, it seemed like depression sort of slowly narrowed my vision. I couldn’t see everything in my life, it just narrowed in on the things that were hard and unfixable.
One of the things that my therapist said and that I took to heart was this: to fight the narrowing of vision and the hyper-focus on the hard and unfixable things, I needed to remind myself of truth. I needed to tell myself things I knew were true, even if I didn’t feel them.
I took that so much to heart that I have said it to countless people over the years since.
We need to regularly tell ourselves truth.
We need to make it a practice to hold on to value-giving truths, to remind ourselves of them over and over. That practice of truth telling is what gives us strength to move forward, whether we feel it or not. Whether our vision is too narrow or not.
I feel like I have to be crystal clear and say this: Savannah knew this and Savannah practiced this.
I am not bringing up this idea of truth-telling as any sort of message that Savannah didn’t do this. She did. She knew her family and so many of you loved her. She was doing all the right things, making plans, trying.
Why there was a momentary lapse is one of those unanswerable questions. I just want to be clear that Savannah was doing all she could to tell herself truth.
So what truth do I want to share today? What do I hope you will carry with you to tell yourself and to give you strength in the hours, days, months ahead?
I went back and read all the things I wrote to Savannah and our daughter Natalie and the other adopted ones, especially during their college years. And as they were all on that journey of separating from home and becoming who they were, I was speaking a lot of simple but essential truths to them—truths about their value and worth.
These are the truths I still tell myself. I come back to these truths today, because I hope you will keep holding and reminding yourself of them, too.
I continue to be a person of faith, and for me and others who are people of faith, we root these truths in who we believe God to be.
The center of it all is that we have value simply by being a creation of God. Our value does not rest or depend on our accomplishments, or what others think of us, or any attribute we exhibit. It doesn’t depend upon circumstances going well. We are valuable and we are loved simply for our humanity.
For those of you who are not people of faith, I hope you will hear me loud and clear: I think you can hold the same truth of the simple value of our humanity, even if you don’t share my belief in God as seen through Jesus Christ.
We are valuable because we ARE, because we exist, not because of what we do.
Here’s how I began the truth-telling, back in the fall of 2012, to Savannah and the others I love:
“I want you all to be empowered and strong. I want you all to be rooted in God’s love. In fact, I am praying for you to be overwhelmed by how huge God’s love for you truly is.”
This is the message I came back to over and over with all of them. This is the truth I want to speak to everyone of you today.
Listen to a few that came over the years as I wrote to them:
“Do you remember today that you ‘are fearfully and wonderfully made?’ This is the heart of your identity, this truth that God has made you. I know I keep coming back to that issue, but it’s because it is so essential.”
“I am committed to believing in you, supporting you, loving you no matter how you feel, what you do, how successful you feel or how much you feel like you are struggling.”
“I want you to know that I am going to keep sending you the same message over and over: You are loved! You are loved for who you are.”
“I say it like I’m a broken record, but Jesus loves you. So very much! My hope and prayer is that you will experience and taste it, that God’s love is showing up in a renewing way in your lives… at least in some small way.”
And near the end of college:
“As women, there unfortunately are still barriers and walls, there are still voices and words that attempt to keep you from doing what you were born to do, that distract and that wound, and can poke holes in confidence. I feel called to be a voice that encourages you, calls out truth, and builds your confidence in who you were born to be.”
Remind ourselves of truth!
But it’s best not to be all alone. We also do well to speak and show tangible love to each other. It’s not just telling ourselves truth, but finding others we can be open and vulnerable with, and let them speak and show love to us.
I wrote then what I still see as true today:
“What best centers me in this journey is people who love me, who care for me even when they see the real me. The flawed me. The wounded and wounding me.”
I hope you have people in your life who show you love in these tangible ways.
If you don’t, I’ll be one today. Let me speak this to you right now, in the midst of your pain and grief. Let me speak this truth over you, in hopes that you will hold it and tell it to yourself in the days and weeks and months ahead:
You are worthwhile, valuable, and loved! Just because you exist!
In community, we can remind each other of the memory of good things.
Reminding someone when we’ve seen them be strong, reminding someone of the gifts we see in them is a tangible way of showing love, and it can build strength.
And on the opposite end of the system, our memories sometimes play tricks on us about the past. Nostalgia can make us think it always used to be good, and now it’s just all bad and hard. We can idealize the past.
So sometimes we also need to remind each other the truth that the past wasn’t always ideal.
We need to be real about the good and the hard of life.
I wrote back then something I hold onto today: “I…say…that to remind you that life here [at home], life everywhere, is a mix of hard and good. I hope you won’t compare the bad things there only to the good things here, because that isn’t reality…”
Today we are face to face with a really hard thing. One of the hardest.
If we aren’t careful, we can make the “now” all bad, and the past all good. That black and white thinking is a road toward despair, and it simply isn’t true.
All of life, now included, is a mix of the very hard, and the boring, and the very good.
It is worth moving forward, because there will be more good to discover amidst our grief.
It is worth moving forward, not because we have tasks to accomplish or good that must be done in the world. It is worth moving forward because we have value and worth simply as humans, as we are.
May we move forward into the muddle of good and bad that is ahead of us.
May we tell ourselves truth about our worth, even when we don’t feel it. May we tell ourselves the truth that good can still come, even when we don’t feel it.
May we find our people, and be open and honest about all the good and bad in life. May we build a community of caring truth tellers.
And may we remember and honor Savannah by practicing love and care for each other.