Free Beyond Reach by Melody Carlson

will do?”
    She shrugs. “I don't know…what do you think?”
    I consider this. “Well, I honestly believe that God is a whole lot more gracious than we give Him credit for. And I think some of these people, like Peter Clark for instance, were probably really confused and hurting and depressed. And for all we know he could've been a Christian, too. I mean, who can see into a person's heart besides God?”
    I let out a big sigh. “I guess I hope that God will take all these things into consideration, and I'm sure that heaven will hold some great surprises.”
    Olivia nods. “Yeah, I'd like to believe that too. Still, I don't get why some people think it's okay to run a website like that. I mean, really, what's their point? Are they just wicked? Or really mean? Or just piain ignorant?”
    “There was even a long paragraph about how suicide is a way to support zero population growth.”
    “Give me a break!”
    “No, it's true. And there were links to some zero population websites as well. And one of the girls writing actually sounded pretty sincere. She seemed convinced that the world is too populated and like she'd be doing everyone a favor by checking out.”
    “No way! She really believes she can help control the world's population by killing, herself?” asks Olivia incredulously. “I so don't get that.”
    “I know. It makes you wonder if murder won't be next on the list. I mean, if these guys are really worried about the globe getting crowded but they happen to be having a good day or a good life, would they consider taking out their neighbor just to keep the numbers down?”
    “Especially if that neighbor's on the obnoxious side, plays his rap music a little too loud, or has a dog that poops on your freshly mowed lawn.”
    “But really,” I say, “it's not something we should joke about. I mean, these people sound dead serious—and I'm not saying that to be funny. It was really depressing. Like there was this one foster kid who was so depressed that he wanted to kill himself, but he was concerned about another foster kid, a four-year-old girl, who lived in the same home. He thought she might freak if she discovered him dead, that she might be messed up for life. But someone told him not to worry about it, just get the deed done and let that poor little girl fend for herself. One girl named Slinky actually told him he was providing a good role model and that when that little girl grew up and decided to kill herself, she'd have him to thank. Can you believe it?”
    “That is seriously sick.”
    “Tell me about it.”
    “And
that
is what you're doing on your birthday, Sam?”
    “Pretty pathetic, huh?”
    Now Olivia gets a thoughtful look. “So can
anyone
respond to those messages? Or do you have to be a registered member of the death club and pay your dues orsign something in blood or maybe join the Hemlock Society first?”
    So I flick my monitor back on, returning to the disgusting suicide website, and we find out that they're open to new members. In fact, they encourage it. So Olivia and I both register, under different names, of course. Olivia is Hope, and I am Grace. Okay, maybe that sounds a bit trite, but this is serious business—these people
need
some hope and grace.
    Then we sit together at my desk and start creating what we think might be encouraging messages. Of course, there's no way to know how they will be received since some of these morbid death wishers have a real attitude going on. But we figure it's worth our best shot, and some of our words feel downright inspired, at least to us. By the time we're done, we both feel much better about ourselves and the people we've attempted to communicate some sense to. Then we actually pray, by name, for the people we just wrote to.
    “Thanks,” I tell her. That was pretty cool.”
    “We'll have to check back later and see if anyone was tuning in.”
    “Do you think some people are just trying to unload?” I say. “Maybe just a cry for