Category Archives: 2005

A Blank Bedroom Wall

They live in a borrowed space entertaining guests everyday. Her name is Hope. His is Death. Their door is always open. She laughs and twirls in crinkled green linen and gold bangles with gold dangles. He smoothly moves in cool gray and black tie.

She recently swooshed spackle over the apartment walls, then covered them with coats of white whispering green. On every wall but one she hung something. Generic hotel items such as a small mirror, a flattened acrylic palm tree encased in a large gold frame, a kitchen clock, or another palm tree framed in a smaller gold frame. She left blank the largest wall in their bedroom. It is an arms length away from the foot of their bed and stretches from window to door. The wall laughs as sunlight tickles its nakedness; it sighs as night covers its nothingness.

Coleman, Hannah, and I mingle with others everyday at their open house. A twenty-one year old boy and a fifty-five year old man wait for hearts. Parents of a two year old boy stop by on their way to their son’s hospital room. They wait for a bone marrow transplant to reverse leukemia’s advance on his life. A twelve year old girl waits for a kidney. We and our twenty-three year old daughter wait for lungs.

I aways wait for everyone to leave, then ask, “May I see the blank wall?”

Death nods. Hope smiles. I perch on the edge of the bed and look up. The wall looks down and whispers, “Shhhh. Be still. I AM is God.

journal entry 2005


Easter 2005


Last December my niece, Hannah, who has Cystic Fibrosis, became very ill and had to be life-flighted to Shands Hospital in Gainesville.

After a few hours there, the Doctor asked to speak to Coleman, my brother and Hannah’s father.  The doctor told us that Hannah was in danger of going into respiratory distress,  which meant for a CF patient that her lungs would be no longer usable.  The doctor said that if that happened, the only way to save Hannah was to put her on a respirator.  But, if that happened, and she had to stay on it for longer than 3 days, that would cause changes in Hannah’s respiratory system that would mean she would have to be removed from the transplant list, which is her only hope for long term survival.

The doctor needed to know what we wanted to do if Hannah went into respiratory distress.

When we went back into her room, Hannah knew that something was going on, and she wanted to talk.

My brother sat down on her bed, and told her that she might need a respirator to breathe.  But, that if she needed it for longer than 3 days, she would be taken off of the transplant list.

And he told her that the doctor needed to know what to do, so Hannah had to decide now.

Hannah leaned over, her head bowed down,

trying to think….

trying to breathe…23 years old, and having to decide that.

Then, Coleman leaned closer,

till their heads almost touched,

And he said,

“Can I tell you what I think?”

She nodded.

Then their heads touched, forehead to forehead.

And Coleman said,

“Hannah, I think you should go on the respirator if you need it….

and we will pray and hope that the lungs come…

And then, if they don’t come in 3 days,

then, Hannah, I think…

we should remove the respirator….

Because Hannah,

I don’t want to hold you here like that…

and keep you from the arms of Jesus.”

Hannah was still for a moment.

And then, do you know what she did?

She nodded again.

“Yes” she nodded.

She looked death right in the eye,

she saw its red eyes,

and yellow teeth,

she and my brother

stared it down,

And then she said “Yes!”

Yes! To trying to live…

Yes! To having to die….

And Yes!

Oh Yes!!

To Jesus…

to that brave and strong Savior

Who meets us in every Good Friday…

in every death…..

To be with us

and walk with us

on through that valley.

And beloved, from that dark night…..

when death was sent running for cover from that room!….

to this very day,

Hannah has gotten better….

and stonger….

as she waits for those lungs.

Why?  What happened?

I think it is because, in that moment,

when she went forehead to forehead with her father,


She died.

She let go.

She sunk into the abyss…

and she found there…

she found it to be true there…

what the Apostle knew:

That whether we live…

or whether we die….

we are the Lord’s.

And, when you finally know that,

then what is there to be afraid of?

What is there to stop you

from living life with all you’ve got?

I am asking you, Beloved,

on this Easter morning,

What is there to stop us from living life

with all we’ve got?!

Easter sermon 2005 by Hannah’s uncle, Gwin Pratt