Do you want to be saved?

(DISCLAIMER: The subject of the week for the Topical Bloggers group is "What must I do to be saved?" The following is purely fictional. It is NOT based on my life. Any similarity to any person, real or imagined, is unintentional.)
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Forty-six years old. I'm at the peak of my game, so to speak. I've done it all - kids (two daughters), marriage (times three) . Having done it all, is there anything left? Is there really nothing more to life? Am I stuck in this hell that I have created?

If I'm done living, why am I still here? Why do I still have a heartbeat? Why do I still breathe? I'm "alive," but I feel so ... ...

I don't feel. Anything. I'd pour myself a drink, but I'm not supposed to have alcohol with these antidepressants. I don't even know why I take them. They don't seem to do anything for me ...



I remember during my college days groups on campus with signs that said "Are you saved?" Saved? From what? For what? What kind of offbeat question is that? "Are you saved?"

I didn't know any of those students very well. We ran in different circles. And I never asked them what the question was all about. I'd just keep walking by, chewing on a string of licorice as I'd make my way to my next class. I didn't want to get involved in their religious mumbo-jumbo. Besides, I didn't need saving. My life was going fine, thank you very much.


One of those girls from college - I'd see her around town throughout the years. She always seemed ... different. Not in a bad way. Just, I don't know, different. Like she had a handle on life, you know? Our paths would cross, but not in a way where we'd connect. We'd say hi at the grocery store, make eye-contact at the gym, that kind of thing. Our kids knew each other, but only as schoolmates. Her kids weren't in the same grade as my girls. Even as teenagers her children seemed different. They didn't dress like the other kids. Didn't party. I don't know what their grades were like, but they still managed to be popular. I don't get it. My two just seemed so out of control at times. We're about as close as Alaska and Cuba.

And her husband ... they adore each other! None of mine ever looked at me the way that he looks at her. Genuine love ... a look that looks to the soul. No man ever looked at me like that.
I just saw her and her family outside the church up the street as I was driving by. From what I can figure, they're still married ... to each other. How could they do that? I've struck out, three times, and never even came close to what they seem to have with each other.

Saved.

I think I get it now.

Saved from this dead-end life I've had.

What must I do to be saved? Or is it too late for me?