Cold...silence...darkness. I lay but my mind is awake. I'm confined, but I'm alive. Open this thing and let me out. I can feel them lifting the coffin. If only I could make tears come from my eyes. Then they'd see that I'm alive.
Childhood memories flash. I was sad. I never found happiness. My teen years were full of pain and anger. I wanted my way. I wore my make up and scanty clothes, high heels and firs. I walked with pride, yet broken inside.
My young professional years were spent in frustration, striving for success and perfection but always falling short. I strived for love and respect from my husband and kids, but never really accepted them for who they were. I wanted to perfect them. I was hard on them and frustrated when they couldn't meet my expectations. Why couldn't my kids be strait A students. How could my daughter be expelled from school in 4rth grade for fighting and disrepecting teachers and other kids. Life had fallen apart.
What have I accomplished in life. Nothing. My heart is sinking. I think...I think, I'm dying. I don't want to hear my thoughts. I close my eyes. Let me fade away.
I'm sinking. I feel myself going down, down, down, into deeper darkness. Fear grips my soul. No, I can't go. I gasp for breath, but it doesn't come. Monsters grabbing at my flesh. An aweful odor. Screams of terror. No. I cry out for mercy. Darkness overtakes me. I'm helpless. Fire surrounds me and demons laugh.
Then I remember, far far memory. I found a track at school. Went to the bathroom to smoke and read the track as I smoked my cigerrette. Tears came to my eyes. I went into the stall and prayed the sinners prayer. I asked Jesus to forgive me and save me. I confessed Him as Lord. But after that day, I slowly forgot. My heart wanted Him but my actions were far from Him. I deserve this. I deserve hell. But something with in me cries out, "Jesus! Jesus!" Light flashes, In the blink of an eye I feel myself gasping for air again. I can breath.
I hear them saying "the heart monitor is beeping again." Nurses and doctors flood the room. They are moving me down the hallway to another place. I open my eyes. I'm in a hospital. Placed in a room, I see my husband looking down at me. "I love you." It's a graspy whisper but he's heard me. I want to tell him I love him for who he is, but I can get the words out. He has tears in his eyes. How can he cry for me. I've been so wrong. I cry. He wipes the tears from my eyes. No Words. "I'm going to change," I whisper. "I know," he replies. "I know."
Erica Ndaguba is married to a wonderful Nigerian man and they have 4 wonderful kids. They've been married 7 years. She's lived 6 years on the mission field and returned to the States 4 years ago. She used to teach ESL but now she's a fulltime housewife and mother.