Read Online And Life Comes Back: A Wife's Story of Love, Loss, and Hope Reclaimed by Tricia Lott Williford - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tricia Lott Williford
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to remind myself to get out of bed every morning and breathe in and out, and then after a while, I won’t have to think about how I had it great and perfect for a while.
—Tom Hanks as Sam Baldwin,
Sleepless in Seattle
January 2011
The coroners and forensic specialists delivered the official cause of death: streptococcus pneumonia with complications from sepsis. Robb had lost his spleen in a sledding accident that went horribly wrong when he was fourteen years old, and while most people can live their lives without a spleen, the purpose of that organ is to keep infection contained while the army of blood cells prepares to fight it off. In the days before his death, all of this began with a mild infection—perhaps from something as simple as a paper cut. Without a spleen the infection ran rampant through his bloodstream, attacking his major organs. In septic shock he became toxic to himself.
Each year, about 250,000 people die from sepsis, and my husband joined the roster. All the symptoms Robb presented were signs of sepsis, but they were also signs of the flu. So when the ER doctor found a positive test result for influenza A, he looked no further. Even if he had run more tests and hospitalized him, Robb’s death was inevitable. He was too sick, too far along. All the antibiotics in the hospital, even a full blood transfusion, could not have saved him. Sepsis is a thief, stealing the function of major organs, limbs, even the brain. The cause of Robb’s death has a name, and nothing could have prevented it. We didn’t miss anything, any clues. The name brings a sense of closure and a peace in my spirit. It wasn’t really about the flu at all.
It was a perfectly tragic storm. A tragically perfect storm.
Even if he had lived, he would not have recovered. I’m beginning to wonder, what is healing, anyway? We pray for healing, for a miracle,for something big, for a few more days. Please, God. Please. We pray to the God who heals all our diseases, the One who promises to work things together for our good. I’m beginning to think differently about this; there’s a paradigm shift happening in my mind. He can say yes. He can heal. But any healing we find now is really only temporary. We’re all going to die. Nobody gets out of here alive.
Sorry. That is morbid. But it’s true.
God didn’t say yes to me. He heard the screams from my bedroom, but he didn’t answer as I begged him to. God didn’t say yes the way we asked him to.
He promises new life; we think it will happen here.
He promises healing; we think it will happen here.
He promises everything will work together for our good; we think it will happen here.
Maybe it will. Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes his faithfulness shows up differently.
How do I make sense of the miracles Jesus chooses to perform and those he seems to overlook? Blessings are not formulaic. They are not a + b = c. There is no “if this, then that.” There is no “If I do this, then Jesus will do that.” There is no “If I don’t do this, then Jesus will not allow that.” We can’t make sense of grace, miracles, and answers. Sometimes Jesus says yes, and sometimes he says no. We ask God to do something big, but the truth is, he already has. We pray for healing, but I wonder if we really know what we’re asking for. Is there greater glory in a pain-free life or in his people knowing and trusting him in the shadowed valley? Robb has new life. He is delivered from everyillness and insecurity and wish, and all things have indeed worked together for his good. Perhaps we should pray for courage and strength for those of us who remain, yet unhealed.
Winter 2011
Stan is more than seventy years old. He’s a leader in business, a voice in academia, a veteran of the armed forces, an expert in relational mentoring, and a professor of influence. He had hired me to write for him years ago, and as he dictated his notes for speeches and presentations, he became my
—Tom Hanks as Sam Baldwin,
Sleepless in Seattle
January 2011
The coroners and forensic specialists delivered the official cause of death: streptococcus pneumonia with complications from sepsis. Robb had lost his spleen in a sledding accident that went horribly wrong when he was fourteen years old, and while most people can live their lives without a spleen, the purpose of that organ is to keep infection contained while the army of blood cells prepares to fight it off. In the days before his death, all of this began with a mild infection—perhaps from something as simple as a paper cut. Without a spleen the infection ran rampant through his bloodstream, attacking his major organs. In septic shock he became toxic to himself.
Each year, about 250,000 people die from sepsis, and my husband joined the roster. All the symptoms Robb presented were signs of sepsis, but they were also signs of the flu. So when the ER doctor found a positive test result for influenza A, he looked no further. Even if he had run more tests and hospitalized him, Robb’s death was inevitable. He was too sick, too far along. All the antibiotics in the hospital, even a full blood transfusion, could not have saved him. Sepsis is a thief, stealing the function of major organs, limbs, even the brain. The cause of Robb’s death has a name, and nothing could have prevented it. We didn’t miss anything, any clues. The name brings a sense of closure and a peace in my spirit. It wasn’t really about the flu at all.
It was a perfectly tragic storm. A tragically perfect storm.
Even if he had lived, he would not have recovered. I’m beginning to wonder, what is healing, anyway? We pray for healing, for a miracle,for something big, for a few more days. Please, God. Please. We pray to the God who heals all our diseases, the One who promises to work things together for our good. I’m beginning to think differently about this; there’s a paradigm shift happening in my mind. He can say yes. He can heal. But any healing we find now is really only temporary. We’re all going to die. Nobody gets out of here alive.
Sorry. That is morbid. But it’s true.
God didn’t say yes to me. He heard the screams from my bedroom, but he didn’t answer as I begged him to. God didn’t say yes the way we asked him to.
He promises new life; we think it will happen here.
He promises healing; we think it will happen here.
He promises everything will work together for our good; we think it will happen here.
Maybe it will. Sometimes it does. Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes his faithfulness shows up differently.
How do I make sense of the miracles Jesus chooses to perform and those he seems to overlook? Blessings are not formulaic. They are not a + b = c. There is no “if this, then that.” There is no “If I do this, then Jesus will do that.” There is no “If I don’t do this, then Jesus will not allow that.” We can’t make sense of grace, miracles, and answers. Sometimes Jesus says yes, and sometimes he says no. We ask God to do something big, but the truth is, he already has. We pray for healing, but I wonder if we really know what we’re asking for. Is there greater glory in a pain-free life or in his people knowing and trusting him in the shadowed valley? Robb has new life. He is delivered from everyillness and insecurity and wish, and all things have indeed worked together for his good. Perhaps we should pray for courage and strength for those of us who remain, yet unhealed.
Winter 2011
Stan is more than seventy years old. He’s a leader in business, a voice in academia, a veteran of the armed forces, an expert in relational mentoring, and a professor of influence. He had hired me to write for him years ago, and as he dictated his notes for speeches and presentations, he became my
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