"Free at last, Free at last, Thank God almighty I'm free at Last." In the midst of committing suicide at age forty-four, my mind paraphrased those words, spoken long ago by Martin Luther King, Jr. I've intentionally used the phrase "committed suicide" as opposed to attempted suicide because I succeeded. EMT's and doctors declared me dead, twice, and I remembered "Seeing the Light." That Light definitely came from the Heavens, since it appeared in the distinct shape of a cross-not simply a bright light. For those of you who've never wondered why God chose to put you on this Earth, you're lucky. From a toddler I knew I wasn't among the lucky ones. Life didn't improve over the years, or even decades, and I questioned what I'd done to God to allow life to treat me the way it had. I survived every form of child and domestic abuse imaginable, lived with a family having close ties with the Mafia, worked at the United Nations for a Soviet spy, managed an all-male rock group, and overcame intense experiences with the cult-driven Rolling Stones. What else could God have in mind for me, I asked? His answer came in a way I never imagined, and the answer was truly a miracle.