I offered an explanation of “why, contrary to the arguments of certain atheists, it makes complete sense and is not contradictory that people thank God for good things (say, that their daughter survived a dreadful disease), but don’t blame God for bad things (that someone else’s daughter died from the same disease).”
In response, reader Robert Brandtjen sent this remarkable and moving story. (He spells the name of God in the Jewish manner, for reasons he explains at the end.)
Why I and mine thank G-d
Ten years ago last August, my then youngest child, Felicity, age two and a half, got out of the house and fell in the pool, nearly drowning. She died a year and half later while having a very good recovery. Her lungs gave out.
In the midst of that, I was often asked by atheists I know (who are aware of my love for my G-d) if I still believed in G-d. My reply was always yes, and that I thanked him for the gift of life—that I in fact believed that he answered my prayers that night in the hospital and gave her back to me. You see, the doctors told me that day, the day she nearly drowned, that she would not live, most likely no more than a few hours but certainly not through the night. Her heart had stopped and had been restarted twice in the E.R. And while she was in there, I prayed outside her door, as close as I could get to her, and begged her to stay here while I begged G-d to spare her life. But, they said, she had “agonal” breathing, which means nothing of her brain was left—she was a vegetable.
I never left her side in the intensive care unit, I prayed out loud for her, so that she might hear me and know that I was there beside her. My prayer was simple. I promised G-d I would lead a good life and always bear witness to him, and then I asked him to take my baby in his arms and hold her close, so that she could feel his love and know that she was safe in his embrace. I could see a calm come over her face as I repeated these words.
All through the night her condition steadily improved. In the morning, the “Intensivist” (ICU specialist) who had told me she would not live was so shocked at her survival he ordered an immediate EEG. She had no flat brain wave areas, which further stunned him. At the 72 hour mark they ordered her in for a CAT scan. 72 hours is the critical point for cerebral swelling following a brain injury. If the injury is great enough, then the brain will swell until it hits the skull, at which point it will do more damage causing more swelling until the brain essentially implodes. But the report that came back also stunned this doctor who, by this time, apparently being an atheist, had told me that though she was still alive and that that was miraculous, he did not believe in miracles. You see, the report that came back indicated minimal or no swelling had occurred. They also admitted that day, that throughout the first night they knew that she could hear my voice and was responding to it—as long as she could hear it, her heart rate remained calm and stable—the pace quickening when it receded. That was very important under the circumstances, she could take no more medication to slow her heart and prevent another heart attack without killing her because they had also given her medication to stabilize her blood pressure. Her EKG showed no history of heart failure—there should have been, it leaves a permanent “scar” that is easily recognizable in the heart beat and is there for the rest of the patient’s life.
At the end of the third day, they removed her breathing support—she had begun to fight it the day before anyway. She very easily could breathe on her own. By this time the entire hospital was split between believing in a pure and true miracle and “luck.” A nurse whom I nicknamed “Nurse Death” who also thought my prayers were falling on deaf ears, had told me that I should “let her die and stop trying to will her to live.” She was there when they removed her respirator—at which point I demanded she be removed and told the hospital staff why. Felicity never missed a beat—she assumed total control of her own breathing without a hitch.
Eventually, she regained her speech as well as her ability to walk— just before she died, ten days short of her fourth birthday. During that time in between, I was able to tell her how much I loved her, and to hear, in response, the words “I love oo too, da.” And so too her mother, brother, and sister came to know how much she loved all of us. That time with her was the most precious time I have ever been given in this lifetime of mine.
In the aftermath of the funeral I was again asked by the nonbelievers if I still believed. My reply then is as now—“more than ever, my love for my G-d has gotten deeper over time, so much so, that contemplating it brings tears to my eyes sometimes.” Their response, “But a real god could have merely plucked her from the pool” or “a merciful god would not let a child die.”
Well, my response is merely this: “G-d gave man free will—his greatest gift, without which my love and reverence for Him would have no meaning, G-d gave this gift to all of us, even a child, and indeed to the surgeon who screwed up and hid his mistake to avoid a malpractice suit, that screw up was why her lungs eventually gave out—she died very peacefully in her sleep. But it is my belief that my G-d answered my prayers that night, and in so doing, even though we would eventually have to say goodbye to her, we were given a very precious gift of time with her—so that all of us, could give her a lifetime of love and that we would know that she loved us. To the doctors, nurses and therapists, she taught them a whole new understanding and different ways of treating children that others claimed to be “vegetables”—those people came to her funeral and named a section of their rehab facility in her honor. They too saw her do things that were not supposed to be possible—according to the atheists in the hospital, anyway. They learned that love and patience were sometimes better then drugs and neglect.
And so, you see, I do not ask my G-d why he took her, but rather instead, I thank Him for the majestic gift of time that he gave us—without which, my other children’s last memory of her would have been of their mother giving her CPR and her parents’ of her lying in a hospital bed, nearly unrecognizable for the tubes and machines. Instead, we were given many very very happy memories, many moments of laughter and joy and, the most precious gift of all—to see her smile again.”
Yours, as always,
Robert Brandtjen
Mr. Brandtjen was raised Catholic and is now an Episcopalian, though his conservative parish will soon be breaking away from Episcopal Church. I asked him why he spells God in the Jewish manner, and he said: