As I think about her death, I reflect on her last moments and lament. I know from personal experience that as tears roll down your face, and the pain swells in your gut, the act of forcing oneself to go through the motions necessary to proceed with an act of self-violence are themselves unbearable, let alone the despair that brought you to such a place. So I know that those last moments are filled with excruciating pain which welcomes death as a relief. But things should have been different.

I’ve said before on this website that Joshua Station is a hard place to be at, particularly because the invitation to healing is a long and arduous journey. Add the elements of homelessness, drug addictions, poverty, court systems, etc. and the difficulty has escalated to a ridiculous level. While those are all true no matter where you are, what makes Joshua Station special is that our staff works hard at every turn to walk with our families towards new life at one of the only long-term transitional housing programs in a city that champions helping the homeless.

As a result, we have good stories. No, we have great stories. Like the story of the 30-year-old who found the body of the 23-year-old mentioned above. After completing our program, she is in stable housing, works part time, provides for her 7-year-old child, and is a student at a local college working towards a degree in social work. She fought tooth and nail to make it this far, and while she could have easily decided to make succeeding in life her goal, she has decided to make giving back to others her success story. This is why she continued to befriend the 23-year-old whose life came to a tragic end. We celebrate the great stories because they are signs of God’s redemptive love. Equally, we lament the tragic stories because they are far too common.

Things should have been different. There is a sense within me that this tragedy should not have ended the way it did. There is something about this story that hits me in my gut. I know of stories of similar despair where for others the story continued. I am one of them. At 23 years-old I walked the streets lonely and broken and in a final attempt to make sense of my pain, I tried to end my life.

As the tears rolled down my face, and the pain swelled in my gut, I forced myself to go through the motions necessary to proceed with my final act of self-violence. As I jumped in front of an oncoming car in those last moments I remember being filled with an excruciating pain that welcomed death as a relief. As I awakened fifty feet from where I was hit, with a crowd and paramedics surrounding me, I was disappointed. There was no relief from my pain and life continued. Now at age 30, much like the 30-year-old mentioned above, my story has been redeemed.

Things should have been different. Great stories sometimes make you feel wronged, because they make you feel like that’s what all stories should be like.

The reality is that this tragedy does not make any sense, but it is a far too familiar song we sing. The hard stories far outnumber the great stories in the scheme of things, but we press on. We press on, wounded like Jacob after he wrestled with God, for the hard stories leave their mark. Our community at Joshua Station is in mourning now. Our staff is disoriented by the pain. As life continues and we have no means to slow it down, we say to one another, “Mourn the dead, and fight like hell for the living.”

Dedicated to the 23-year-old beautiful mother and her child; her life meant far more than words could ever grasp.

Sam Trujillo
Never sure why hope compells me so much,
Never sure why I survived and others didn't,
Never sure what God thinks about our human suffering.