**A Reason to Stay**

John sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the faded photograph in his hand. His children, Gabe and Lily, were smiling up at him from the picture, their faces full of joy from a time when life was different. He hadn’t seen them in years, and the ache in his chest had become unbearable. Every day was a battle—one he felt he was losing. The scars on his soul were deeper than any visible wound, and he wondered if there would ever be peace.

His friend, David, knocked on the door and stepped inside. He saw the familiar look in John's eyes and knew something was wrong. 

"Hey Buddy are you alright? is everything ok?"

"You're not thinking about killing yourself, are you?" David asked softly, his voice thick with concern.

John looked away, unable to meet his friend's gaze. "Yeah," he muttered. "I want out. I want to see my kids again. And I want this pain to end, but it's not gonna end. It's never gonna end."

David pulled up a chair and sat down beside him, his expression full of empathy. "Because God's not punishing you by killing you?" he guessed, understanding the torment that had been gnawing at John for so long.

"He's punishing me by forcing me to stay alive," John replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "Could you explain to me again how God's not punishing me?" Why?"

David sighed, placing a hand on John’s shoulder. "Oh, He's just teasing you," David said gently, trying to bring a bit of lightness into the room. "Like you're here to stay."

John let out a half-hearted chuckle. "Looks that way," he said, but the pain in his eyes was still there, lurking beneath the surface.

David leaned forward, looking him straight in the eye. "God has something special for you, John, right now, here on earth. I know it doesn’t feel like it, but there’s more to your story. More chapters to write, more people who need you."

"Special?" John asked, his voice filled with disbelief. "David, I can’t even take care of myself. How am I supposed to believe that God has a purpose for me?"

David thought for a moment and then stood up, walking over to the small garden outside John's window. He came back with a tiny green shoot he had planted a few weeks ago, holding it up for John to see.

"Look at this," David said, showing him the fragile plant. "It started as a seed, buried in the dirt. It could’ve given up, you know? The weight of the earth pressing down on it, the darkness all around. But it didn’t. It pushed through the soil, and now it’s reaching for the light. Sometimes, that’s what life feels like, too."

John gazed at the small plant, its leaves trembling in David’s hands. It was a simple thing, but it stirred something deep within him. 

"Maybe you’re still in the soil," David continued. "Maybe the darkness feels suffocating. But one day, you’ll break through. And when you do, you’ll grow into something you never imagined."

John’s grip tightened on the photograph of his children. He missed them more than anything. He wanted to hold them, to laugh with them again, to be the father they remembered. But the pain of not having them in his life had become a weight too heavy to carry. 

David knelt beside him, his voice gentle. "John, I don’t know why life feels this way for you right now. But I do know one thing: your kids need you, whether they’re with you or not. And there’s a reason you’re still here. Maybe it’s to be their light one day when they need it most. Maybe it’s to help someone else who's struggling, just like you are now. But whatever it is, it’s not over yet."

Tears welled up in John’s eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he let them fall. He didn’t know if David was right, but a part of him hoped he was.

"God’s not punishing you," David added softly. "He’s giving you a chance to fight, to live, to see what’s on the other side of this darkness. And maybe... just maybe, your story isn’t done yet."

John wiped his tears and nodded, feeling the faintest flicker of hope. He didn’t have all the answers, but for the first time, he felt like he didn’t have to. Maybe staying alive was a struggle, but there was still something worth fighting for—whether it was his kids, himself, or the light that David promised was waiting beyond the pain.

And as John looked at the tiny plant in David’s hand, he realized that, like the seed, he wasn’t done growing yet.

In the end, there is something Called Hope...

God Bless Us All...

Jacob M