"I Wonder What God Is Going To Do with This": Roger Crawford, Pt. 1

I woke up one morning in 1996, and it was clear to me. I'd never been more sure of anything in my life.

I didn't want to play anymore.

In a span of three months or so, which may have even been a bit longer, I stopped caring.

I had lost my wife and my two daughters to divorce, lost my job, lost my house, and, more importantly than any of that, lost my desire to live. 

What did I have to live for? Things will never get better. I wouldn't even know where to begin. No place to live, no place to go, and virtually nothing to live for.

I looked in the mirror that day and asked God the most basic of all questions. A question we've all asked at various points in our lives. Why me? Why me, God? I'm a nice guy. I feel like I always think of others before I think of myself. I do unto others. Why me, man? Why me?

I called my parents crying, as I'd done many times before. This time I didn't tell them that I was having a bad day. They seemed to know. I remember my Dad telling me to find the soft spot. 

"Every problem has a soft spot, Todd. Find the soft spot." 

I didn't quite think that this problem had a soft spot, but Dad made me think long enough to calm my sorry ass down.

I remember going into my bedroom and lifting my window shades for the first time in weeks. The brightness of the world outside hurt me, but I left the shades open just the same.

I grabbed "Chicken Soup for the Soul" off the bureau from the spot it had been sitting in for weeks. Someone gave it to me in an effort to brighten my world. It didn't.

I thumbed through the first few chapters and nothing really seemed to interest me. Stories of love and family could have just as easily been quantum physics. I didn't recognize any of it and I didn't want to learn how.

I went to the medicine cabinet and grabbed my bottle of "whatever it was I was taking this week." I poured a couple extras into my throat. Not in an effort to end my life, I justified in my mind. I took extras in an effort to ease my pain. To make me feel better.

Except, I didn't feel better.

I went back to "Chicken Soup" and flipped to a page about 2/3 of the way back in the book. I started to skim the story as I had several before. I remember the title to this day. "Everybody Can Do Something" by Jack Canfield.

I pondered the title for a few seconds. And remember chuckling. "Yeah, everyone except me."

That's the last I remember.  My pills had taken effect. I didn't feel better, but I did fall asleep. For hours.

Not really sure what happened when I awoke. I think I know, but won't be able to confirm it until God calls me home. And whenever that may be (and no it miraculously wasn't back in 1996), I'll ask Him. And yet, I already know His answer.

I woke up and the book came immediately into my line of vision. I couldn't focus on the writing for a few minutes but knew I wanted to continue reading. The book sat inches from my hand. I don't remember leaving it there but I suppose I did. And yet I didn't.

The corner of the page was dog eared as if God didn't want me to lose my place. He wanted me to read this story. So I did.

The story went like this...

You're currently logged into Facebook

Do you want to share your Bleacher Report activity on Facebook?