Monday, though usually the hardest day of the week was a good day for Daron. You do remember Daron, don’t you? He’s the financial advisor who comes to church with a wedding ring, but without a spouse. He just landed a deal as the financial advisor for a newly drafted NBA superstar. As he sat in the break room at his firm reading the news paper and sipping on a decaf coffee, he couldn’t help but think about how he had everything going for him on his job and that the Lord had been so good to him. He was paid because he had acquired a few big clients; he was making well over six figures and was making his way toward seven. He drove a seven series BMW, it was a head turner; silver exterior, chrome 22’’ rims…the whole 9 yards. He even bought his wife a top of the line fully loaded Range Rover.   He could dress; He could see his own reflection in his own shoes. His Italian suit was clearly not cheap in look, feel or cost. He kept his fingernails well groomed and had appointments with his barber twice a week. He was a spiritual man. He prayed every day before he ate and attended church regularly. All of this he did alone. Daron pulls up to his quarter of a million-dollar home from a good day, a successful day. On one side of the veil he was a success, but on the other side of the veil he was a failure. On one side of the veil he was whole but on the other side of the veil there was brokenness. He pulls up in the driveway and pulls into the garage. As his car entered the garage all of the good things that happened to him that day were eclipse as the garage door came down behind him. He was about to walk through the door, the veil, which had behind it every thing that sapped the linger from his smile and the glow from his countenance.   Daron had not heard from Joanne his wife all day which usually meant that she was in a drunken stupor laid out on the floor somewhere in the house. “Lord, I thank you for all you’ve done for me today, but I need you to go with me into this house” Daron prayed. He turns the knob and walks through the veil.   As was his custom, the first thing he did was kick off his shoes so he wouldn’t stain the fluffy carpet that covered the floor of their home like a sea of fur. He walks through the wash room into the living room and just as he expected Joanne was laid out with half of her body on the couch and the other half hanging off. On the end table… a drinking glass and an empty bottle of Vodka. “Jo Jo, I’m home!!!”, Daron yells. “Get up baby!”, expecting her to slur some words back to him.   As Daron walks closer to her he notices that she’s unresponsive. As a matter of fact she’s not moving at all. Daron takes her in his arms and smacks her on the face… “ Jo Jo baby, wake up!!!”. Joann’s limp, lifeless body lay in Daron’s arms unresponsive. In an escalating frantic he begins to shake her. “Baby!! No not like this! Lord please not like this!!!!”.   As he shakes her he notices an empty medicine bottle fall to the floor. He picks it up and reads it. “Vicodin? Oh my God!!! No! No! No!” He hysterically calls 911.   The Paramedics come. When they get there they begin their work. Daron backs up and let’s them do their job. It’s all a blur. It’s all happening so fast. Daron says a prayer under his breath… “Lord please!!!” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He then thinks to himself… “This has got to be the worst best day of my career”, “how could things be so together at work yet so broken in my own house”. “Lord please!!!”