Is the next big pandemic already upon us?
It is, but it’s not bird flu or monkeypox.
It goes by many names — often, it’s simply called "despair."
The statistics are stunning: According to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), over 12 million U.S. adults seriously consider suicide every year.
I hope you’ll agree that’s a devastating number.
They’re overwhelmed by despair.
They're unable to find a way out.
One of my goals for this column is to spotlight the pathway to rediscovering hope amid heartbreak. I’d like to think I’m living proof this is possible.
Flashback to a hot August evening in 1969. A local pastor gathered me and my two brothers on the sidewalk outside a hotel where my family was living.
Even as a 9-year-old, one look in his eyes told me something was terribly wrong.
We knew our mom and dad had gone out for a drive and had yet to return.
But why was this man here to speak with us?
After a moment of painful uncertainty over what to tell us, he finally spoke the words that would alter our lives forever.
"Your parents," he said, "have been in an automobile accident that has killed your father."
"Your mother was in the car too," he added.
"She’s in serious condition, but the doctors believe she will live."
To my 9-year-old self, none of this made sense.
I simply couldn’t comprehend that dad would never come home — ever.
"Where are mom and dad?" I demanded. "When are they coming back?"
The pastor took me gently by the shoulders in both hands, bent down to my level, and looked me directly in the eyes.
"David, your mom is going to be fine," he said. "But your dad is now in heaven."
I recall many sleepless nights following that beyond tragic event, as I stared up at the ceiling and wondered what was going to happen to me, my brothers, and younger sister.
For several days, with mom undergoing multiple surgeries, we were shuffled from family to family. With each stop I wondered, "Will this be our new home?"
But each time we’d be sent to go somewhere else.
"God is a father to the fatherless," my grandmother assured us, "and he is watching over you."
I asked her, "How can God be our Father when He’s all the way up in heaven?"
"Just watch," she replied. "He will fulfill his promise through his people."
And he did, the day I was dropped off outside the home of the Davis family.
The Davises were faithful members of my dad’s congregation: Bill Davis supervised the Sunday school and his wife, Louvada, directed the women’s ministry.
They were far from wealthy, they even lived in a modest trailer with their two children; we visited them there often.
I remember nervously stepping down the stone path to the front door of their trailer home, clutching my suitcase in one hand and my pillow in the other.
I was scared to death that we might soon find ourselves suffering the rejection of packing up and moving on again.
But as I reached up to knock on the door, Mr. Davis swung it wide and gave us a warm smile.
"Welcome!" he said, ushering us all inside. "Welcome!"
Mr. Davis embraced each of us, one-by-one.
Then he spoke the words that I will always remember, words like a gift from heaven.
"You are with family," Mr. Davis declared. "And this is now your home."
That common four-letter word "with" told us all we needed to know.
The Davises were intent not only on sharing their home, but on sharing our pain as well.
And it was exactly what four scared and heartbroken children needed to hear.
I share this story because I do believe our society is struggling.
We’re experiencing a pandemic alright, a mammoth one comprised of uncertainty and fear.
I worry we’re so stuck in our own little silos and echo chambers, with our eyes glued to our electronic devices, in the form bank-balance apps and social media, that our society seems increasingly detached from interacting with, much less guiding people out of this deep abyss.
As Scripture is always a reliable friend, let's now take time to reflect on Hebrews 6:19,
"We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure."
This hope is found in a personal relationship with God through his son, Jesus Christ.
I'm blessed to be able to say this is one story with a happy ending.
Going forward, I have more to tell, about how Jesus led our family out of its emotional wilderness, turning my siblings, as well as me, into wounded healers serving all globally.
We need to talk more about "with," and why this very special word was such a life saver for four kids who’d tragically lost their dad..
I believe "with" is the one-word inoculation all of us need amid the new pandemic of despair.
His father’s death and mother’s debilitating injury due to a drunk driver at age 9 propelled Dave Donaldson to dedicate his life to building healthier families and stronger communities worldwide. In 2017, he co-founded CityServe International, which has since distributed over $1.2 billion of goods to communities in need. Read more of Dave Donaldson’s reports — Here.