I know the last blog was a little heavy, and I am sorry if the read is too hard, I promise they will not always be sad ones, but I don’t feel like I am quite finished sharing my journey through Deanna’s death.
In her last few hours of life, I held her little hand, her tiny fingers wrapped around my finger, as she lay in hospital, trying to catch her last breaths. She lay there, her body starting to shut down, blood running out of her nasal-gastric tube and into a plastic glove in case they decided to do a blood transfer and could recycle her own blood back into her, as there was no other blood available to use, especially on a HIV victim. Even as she lay there in this state, I put my hand gently on her, praying, believing that God would do something special in her life and heal her. His word said and I believed. When she passed, as well as all the grief to overcome, I had many questions for God. I was confused. He was a faithful God. Why did He not make her well? I carried these questions heavily. As Andrew and I sat on our front stairs as the sun went down on the afternoon of the funeral, we knew that no matter how much this hurt, no matter how much we did not understand about God’s judgement in this, we needed to keep on trusting Him, and continue to know that He IS faithful. He did not intend for Deanna to be born with HIV, he did not intend for her to suffer and die. That was not His desire, that all came from the simple fact that sin is in the world. Our Father did not promise that we would not suffer, He promised to always be with us when we did. He promised to never leave us through it.
|photo by Marcie Erickson|