Audrey Fay

I am not sure what prevented me from committing suicide. I had traveled a long, lonely road. I let circumstances from my childhood and young adult life boil inside me, until I felt angry at the whole world. I had thought that if I helped everyone around me and did everything they asked of me, they would like me, and I would find the happiness I craved. Instead, my preoccupation with pleasing others almost drove me off a cliff.

I began embezzling money from my employer so that I could meet the expectations I felt my family, co-workers, and friends had of me. I lived a lie, and it didn’t make me feel more liked and loved by those closest to me. Instead, I felt lonely and cold, trapped by the web of my own deceit. Deeply depressed, I thought about taking my own life. Instead, I walked into my boss’s office and told him the ugly truth.

They say the truth sets you free, and it does, but first I had to go prison. Under a plea agreement, I was sentenced to a year of incarceration. From the county jail, I was sent to the Valley State Prison for Women – in central California – just days before Thanksgiving 2004. I had never been to prison before. On my first night, my cellmate was sent to the hospital with a sudden illness. Then someone down the hall tried to light a cigarette and blew a circuit. The entire unit sat in the dark while rain poured down outside. I sat in my unlit room for six long days and nights. I was alone, except for the rat that scurried in and out.

The only things in my room were a Bible and a Prison Fellowship pamphlet explaining God’s plan of redemption. I picked them up and began to read. As I read, I struggled through difficult passages of Scripture. My internal conflict built. I wanted to know God. I felt Him calling me to be His servant, but I had questions and reservations.

On the sixth night, I called out to God. I cried and yelled, asking Him to save me from the life I was leading and take me as His child. I prayed that He would make the lights come back on, and that the rat would disappear.

The next day, the lights finally came back on, and I never saw the rat again. It was then that I knew that the Lord had heard my cries, and I would never be the same person.

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