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Even in Crisis, You Are Not Alone
Posted on Jan 19, 2021 Topic : Inspirational/Devotional, Men's Christian Living, Women's Christian Living
Posted by : Jonathan Pitts
As soon as I returned to the bedroom, I knew something was wrong.
Wynter had been sleeping when I entered. Now she was sitting up, her back facing away from me. Suddenly, she slumped over into an odd and uncomfortable position. I wondered for a moment if she just had decided to get a little more rest, but then I heard her quietly moaning.
I rushed to the bed and turned her over to face me. That’s when I knew something was very wrong. Her eyes were open, but lifeless.
All my senses heightened in a nanosecond. I patted her face to try to rouse her, thinking that maybe she was just having a hard time coming out of sleep.
“Babe,” I whispered.
Her only response was a heartrending moan. “Wynter…Wynter…stay with me,” I said more loudly, patting her face a bit more firmly.
No response.
I ran over the possibilities in my mind. Is she just sleeping more soundly than usual? Was this some sort of seizure?
I quickly lifted her unmoving body from the bed and laid her gently on the floor to try CPR. I still remember the weight as her limbs hung lifeless. I’d been an Eagle Scout, so I’d been trained in CPR. I started in with chest compressions and mouth-to-mouth resuscitation while I yelled for the girls to bring me my phone. My efforts weren’t seeming to have much effect.
This was the single most horrifying moment of my entire life. The girls didn’t know at first if this was some sort of bad joke, but they quickly realized what was going on. I called 911. I called my family to ask them to pray.
I asked the girls to go outside and wait for one of their aunties to show up.
It took over 12 minutes for the ambulance to arrive, which seemed like an eternity. I kept attempting CPR, but it wasn’t making a difference. It is one thing to perform it on a practice dummy, but it was quite another to perform it on my beautiful, fragile wife. I didn’t want to injure her or make things worse. I kept praying aloud, but never stopped working.
There was no discernible heartbeat. We needed a miracle. I prayed for one, trying to stay calm for the sake of my girls. I was all adrenaline. No flight. All fight. Fighting as best as I could for her life.
When the paramedics arrived, they radiated calm and composure, and when I started asking too many questions, they suggested I wait outside. I think, in that moment, I knew I was losing her and that she was leaving for another place, and so I didn’t pray “Don’t let her die,” but “Don’t let her leave.” I didn’t want the Lord to take her from me.
Back when I first started working for Dr. Evans, I was very afraid of flying. It was a fear that had built up over my years as a dad. When my twins (daughters number three and four) arrived, that fear hit an all-time high.
At any bit of turbulence, I would grip the armrests for dear life, playing out a horrible scenario in my mind where the plane would drop out of the sky. I couldn’t sleep or get much work done on the flights because I was so overwhelmed by fear. In my desperation, God led me to a scripture which I memorized and recited to myself every time I took a trip on an airplane: “Have no fear of sudden disaster or of the ruin that overtakes the wicked, for the Lord will be at your side and will keep your foot from being snared” (Proverbs 3:25-26).
God gave me this verse to overcome my fear of flying, but that trial was a test for the moment I now found myself in. I had internalized it and come to trust in its message. But now it became even more real to me. I realized it wasn’t so much a promise that nothing bad would ever happen to someone who loves God, but a promise that God would be there beside you at all times—no matter what.
Even as the light went out in Wynter’s eyes, I knew God was with her. He was at her side, walking next to her at every step. I could trust that Wynter was safe. She was okay. Even though I couldn’t protect her, that didn’t mean she wasn’t being protected. And God was also with me, in all my confusion and worry and fear. I didn’t have to face this crisis alone.
Read more in My Wynter Season by Jonathan Pitts