What If I Wake Up Dead In The Morning?: A Journey Walking Towards Faith Takes a Lifetime

By Vernon Robinett with Regina D. Lane Robinett

At 2:00 a.m. on August 26, 2018, I had God tell me, in no uncertain terms it was, in fact, time to write this book. He also provided me the title, What If I Wake Up Dead in the Morning? At some point in your faith life, when you hear God as strong as I did that night, it's best to do as you are told. I had always lived my life believing I was in control and planned each step needed to reach the goals I set for myself. This book reveals how I was brought to my knees and forced to admit it is God who is in control! Regina and I have learned walking toward faith takes a lifetime.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 27, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644718902

Book preview

How It All Began

It’s about 10:00 a.m. on Sunday morning, May 16, 2004. I’m in the emergency room at North Kansas Hospital (NKCH). I am standing across from my mother-in-law, Sarah, one of us on each side of the hospital bed. At the head of the bed is my daughter, Jeannie, who is standing close to us. The three of us could have easily reached out and held each other’s hands as we watched the events unfold before our very eyes. Jeannie was pregnant with her second child who we would later know as Alyssa. Sarah and Jeannie had only been in the room maybe five minutes.

It’s one of those memories that is burned not only in your mind but also in your heart and soul. You know, the kind of event you will carry in a memory of pain and disbelief for the rest of your lives. My wife, Regina, is the one laying on the bed in pain. It was a pain unlike I had ever seen anyone endure before. The bed was raised up at the highest level, so it was just below chest level to me. Regina was suffering from a blood clot in her left leg. It clotted about ninety minutes earlier in our bedroom at home. When she first yelled from the pain, I looked at her leg turning purple and knew I had to get her to the emergency room (ER) as quick as possible.

At this point, the ER doctor had already instructed the nurse to give Regina a shot twice, full of morphine, and it was not reducing the pain at all. Her leg was entirely purple from the hip down. As I looked down her leg, the shades of purple grew darker and darker to almost black. Her entire ankle and foot were that black color. I tried not to look at it and I am sure that’s why the three of us were all standing around the head of the bed. The bed was narrow, and we could have easily touched one another had we chosen to do so. Maybe for a prayer if we had wanted, but the scene was such that Regina was begging for the doctor to help her because the pain was unbearable.

The nurse came up beside Sarah with a larger syringe of a more powerful pain medicine, and the doctor looked at me as if his thoughts were, I don’t know what else to do. The nurse gave her the shot in the left side of her stomach. Within what seemed like seconds, everything just seemed to stop. The room went completely silent. Regina’s eyes rolled back and then shut, her mouth opened slightly with what felt like the only sound we could hear was coming out as gurgles. The bed raised the way it was, Regina’s mouth was close to our ears, increasing the sound. My first sight was a look of terror on the doctor’s face, but it was nothing like what Sarah and Jeannie looked like.

I remember them rushing Jeannie and Sarah out of the room first, and alarms were going off. Regina had just gone into traumatic shock, and all of her organs shut down. She had just died right in front of our very eyes. A nurse guided me out of the room to the waiting room.

Our son, Ricky, was traveling home from Chicago, and I really needed him, but he was on the plane. All I could do was leave him a message to call me as soon as he landed. I suppose I said a prayer to God when I sat down on the chair. I thought God and I knew each other enough that He didn’t mind chatting when I needed him for something. Mostly, I just reflected on Regina and the time we had shared to that point in our lives. I struggled to know how I might go forward without her.

Regina and I met at our high school bus stop in 1975, and her first words to me were, Hey, kid, wake up, the bus is here. Not particularly strong romantic words, but I sure liked the way she looked when she said them. I had just worked the night shift at a local restaurant and went to the apartments, El Chaparral in Riverside Missouri, to clean up to go to school each morning. That was my schedule. Regina also lived in those apartments. I really liked that she was older than I was, and did I mention how good she looked?

The next time we met was at Tony’s Pizza where we both were working at the time. On one of the first conversations, one-on-one I had with Regina, while I was talking to her, I was holding the stapler for the pizza cash register receipts. I was so nervous I stapled my finger! Yeah, completely stapled it to where the staple went all the way into my finger. I tried to hide it but ultimately showed her, and we laughed so hard. I really liked to make her laugh from that moment on. She looked really good when she laughed.

One of the things Regina and I had in common was we both started working at an early age in life. My cousin, Bobby, lived with my mom and I at the time. He also worked with Regina and me at Tony’s Pizza. The three of us had a blast working together. Pizza dough fights were crazy fun!

Regina and I started dating and did so for three years. We had so much fun together and shared so much in common. I had never met anyone like her. I really didn’t know that two people could connect in the way we did. It just felt right, and being with her always has.

For those first few years, Regina, Bobby, and I partied and enjoyed each other’s company going to concerts and just driving around at nights. I had bought my first car, a green 1969 Camaro Z28, and remember more than once street racing with Regina sitting by my side. It is truly some of my earliest best memories that I have carried with me, and I suppose I will carry them for the rest of my life.

We both carried the scars that come from divorced parents. It probably bothered me more than I could or cared to express. I just moved past it and started my own life, getting my first apartment at seventeen years old.

For Regina, her parent’s divorce hit home to her more, because her dad did literally abandon her and her siblings. She had one sister and four brothers—Roberte, David, Richard, Reggie, and Randy.

My emotions were tempered somewhat because my parents stayed in my life and made it easier on me, although it didn’t come without its heartaches as well. I actually have four siblings—Ray, Debbie, Bobby, and Randy. In my early childhood, I was raised with Ray and Debbie. Bobby and Randy were raised with me as my cousins but really are my biological brothers.

Regina and I both loved to work, and as I stated before, we started to work at an early age. We learned early on if you wanted something, you had to work for it. Funny story, Regina decided that the three of us—her, me, and Bobby—needed to be paid more money while working at Tony’s Pizza. She had a good plan that could get us each 50 cents more per hour. I would go to the owner, Tony, and explain the plan to him, and he would give each of us the raise we deserved. I did it just how she described. The results were: I got fired, Bobby quit, and Regina got her 50-cent raise. Walking away from that job, I was asking myself, why would I do that? Have I mentioned how good she looked?

Looking back, the loss of the job at Tony’s Pizza was truly one of those God closes one door and another door opens situations. Except in this case, Regina helped close the door for me. Ha-ha.

I had to have a job if I wanted to start a life on my own, and so I applied at a printing company called Package Service Company (PSC) one week before I turned sixteen. My mom worked there, so it made it easy to ask for a job and get one. PSC was a label-printing company that I loved working at from the first day I walked into the place. Ultimately, it proved to be the right career choice for me and enabled me to provide for my family. Twenty-eight years later, I am still employed there as I sit in this waiting room for the doctors to come and tell me what is going on with Regina.

The doctors finally came in and told me I could go back to the ICU room to see Regina, and they explained that she was on life support and in a coma. When I got to her room, it was a bit shocking to see all of the things hooked to her to keep her alive. There were a few doctors there to discuss with me the situation and that it did not look good. They told me she was a very, very sick lady. There was not much they could do but give her time to see if she would come out of her coma. They suggested that if we were a praying family, we may want to consider doing so. It felt like a time to reach out and chat briefly with my friend, God. I was scared and worried I was going to lose her to eternity at any time.

I stayed with her for a while, but it was obvious I had absolutely no control of the situation, so I decided to go back to the ICU waiting room. I called the family and friends that we had in town to tell them the situation.

I couldn’t help but reflect that to this point, we had lived a blessed life and possibly what many called the American dream. We were married in 1978 and had celebrated twenty-six years of marriage. We both had worked hard so we could own our own home and enjoy our lives as we saw fit. Yes, in our eyes, we had been living the American dream.

I asked Regina if she would marry me. Thankfully, she said yes. On March 3, 1978, we were married at Northmoor Methodist church. We knew about God and that if we were to be married, it would be done in front of God and in church. I remember thinking when we shared our wedding vows how right it felt. I was so sure of this decision that I would never want anything else or anything more than to just spend my life with her. I knew that day was not so much a claim of present love as much as it was about future love. We were both excited to start sharing our lives together. And, wow, she was never more beautiful and never looked happier; I was never happier to this point in my life as well.

I never asked Regina’s mother, Sarah, for permission to marry Regina. Sarah would have never agreed to it. She made it clear that she was not in favor of me dating Regina; forget about her even marrying me. Sarah and I really never talked much while I dated Regina. In some way, her negative feelings toward me made me want to try harder to take care of Regina all of these years. I know for a fact that Sarah now loves me and realizes I love Regina and knows I will take good care of her.

The first five years of marriage unfolded like clockwork, and we enjoyed our lives together so much. Again, it just felt right. From there, I am not sure Regina planned to have any children, but my plan was at five years of marriage to have one child and then another as soon as possible—one boy and one girl. Remember, I was in control of our lives. I actually thought I had life all figured out—go to work, make money, buy what you want and need, go back to work and make more, and then enjoy your way through life.

Reflecting back from the ICU waiting room, it all seemed so simple; and yet, how could it have gone by so fast to a possible ending any minute? How could God, who is supposed to love us, interrupt our plans?

We were young parents. I was twenty-three and Regina was twenty-four when Jeannie was born, and two years later, Ricky made our family complete. We knew that these beautiful babies were blessings from God. We also knew that we were, and still are, sinners. We have made some bad decisions over the years and we did not deserve God’s blessings of both of these amazing children. Thankfully, our God is a Father of mercy and grace and doesn’t give us just what we deserve.

Our lives changed after Jeannie and Ricky were born. It wasn’t better or worse, it was just a different level of fun than what we had in our pre-parental stage of life.

We had our problems—at least, what seemed like problems—throughout twenty-six years but had never really had many fights along the way. Things were good, and life just felt right most of the time. We made decisions together and we were in charge of our journey along the way. It was a life that most of the family looked at us as having it made. I remember my mom telling me that Regina and I had never really suffered serious problems in our lives. Some of the family didn’t know if we could handle something bad if it were to happen. We worked, we lived, and we loved each other through the journey.2

There is one point I want married couples or those considering marriage to know—twenty-six years of marriage does not come by easy. At least, it hasn’t for Regina and I and our family. Although it has always felt right between us, we were not without sin in this life and made plenty of mistakes along the way. We have sinned our way through, and yet, we try and regroup when we fall and support each other along through the journey. You have to be willing to find God somewhere along the process and pull him into the marriage, even if you start with baby steps of simply attending church on Sundays. Starting on that inherent feeling that your creator wants to know you better, and He loves to help your marriage, is key.

I was sitting in the ICU waiting room. It was night, and most of the people in here were asleep. I was asking God to not let our lives together end at this point in our journey. Please consider giving us more time with Regina, I prayed. She was only forty-six years old, too young to be taken from us. I knew enough about God that if He wanted to save Regina, He could and would.

We had seen death up close and personal when we lost Regina’s brother, Reggie, to a freak accident when he was only thirty-two years old. It was hard to understand, and yet, we could in fact see God in some of the events that followed. God was there.

Two years after Reggie’s death, Sarah was diagnosed with leukemia (AML). The diagnosis for her was fast, and the outlook bleak. If she didn’t start treatments that day, she would be dead. With treatment, the doctor thought he might be able to get her into remission. I always admired Sarah for not giving up. That was in 1994, and now, twenty-four years later, she is here, still loving Regina. I could see the worry on her face as we talked in the ICU waiting room, not knowing if or when Regina would wake up.

Regina was one of her mom’s caregivers during her leukemia battle with the horrible disease and she was determined if she was ever diagnosed with cancer, she would not take on that battle. She hated what her mom went through and said she would never forget it. A front row seat to someone you love suffering to survive on this earthly journey is not something anyone should have to bear. Sarah did beat the odds by a long shot. However, our faith wasn’t strong enough to realize God’s full involvement in each of our lives at that moment.

You see, our faith journey was one that grew along the way, but we regulated the speed of growth with our relationship with God. My guess is that many of you control your own pace with God’s relationship as well. Our lives, in fact, was not perfect; but in most ways, Regina and I believed we had things in control, and God was more or less there to discuss issues with but to not necessarily direct things as we could do that. We were very structured in our approach to living. We had control and knew the path.

We went to Platte Woods United Methodist Church (PWUMC) for about the past five years to this point. I could feel a connection of something, but not really sure what. Our faith was at a stage where we felt an obligation to go to church mostly on Sundays, but then we made sure we were the last ones in and the first ones out. In hindsight, this was driven more by me than Regina. I think she would have been more engaged in church if it wasn’t for me holding out some. I felt okay with Sunday greetings, saying hi to people I really didn’t know. But I had no desire to befriend anyone or spend any other time in church. I really didn’t want to be to churchy, if you know what I mean.

Our structure grew into our parenting skills, and we decided to hold family meetings. These meetings consisted basically of scheduling our activities. Regina and I worked, and both Jeannie and Ricky had their busy schedules to coordinate, and the meetings were created to do so. Scheduling! Regina and I thought both of our children were supposed to be happy and we tried to make sure they got to do most everything they wanted. We never really discussed God much in our family meetings. I am sure we discussed our general rules of life, but they were presented in a way that they were our rules and not God’s. After all, we were the ones in control—or so we thought.

We parented in a way that Jeannie and Ricky wanted to get their own lives started and to control their own earthly journeys. Jeannie was well on her way, but not in a good way. She was married and pregnant with her second child. Outwardly, she tried to portray a good life, but her story was one of early addictions and heart-breaking decisions for herself, her mother, and me. She was not in a good place and would not be so for a long time going forward from here.

Ricky also wanted to move on with his life. You could tell, even though he was still only nineteen, he had big dreams. By now, he had already started his own business and taught himself computer programming and experimented with different churches and bands. There were challenging times and heartbreaks with Ricky as well, but not to the extent of Jeannie, and they were pretty much behind us at this point in our lives. I would call his struggles typical with some downturns along the way. It was mostly a positive path going forward with him.

Knowing they both really wanted to get away from us to start their own journey kind of bothered me. I couldn’t help to wonder if, in fact, we had included God in our family meetings, things might have been different.

Regina lay in the bed in ICU in a coma for over three weeks straight. I held my job at PSC, and the owners, Wes and Jeff Nedblake, had become lifelong friends with us, and they were great in not pressuring me to be at work. Many of the PSC associates proved to be a real blessing along my journey, and I was grateful for that. They didn’t pressure me to get back to work, but I pressured myself. I was taught early on that your dedication to your work is a direct relation to a successful career, and a successful career is a direct relation to your quality of life.

For most of the first two weeks, I stayed with Regina day and night. I couldn’t be in the ICU room long, so I spent most of my time in the ICU waiting area. I slept there at night, and at some point, I broke away to work during the day and then back to the waiting room at night.

One night, I missed meeting with the doctors and did not get my daily update. I was watching the halls and I saw one of the doctors down the hall pushing the elevator button. I ran toward him and could tell by his demeanor, he hoped the elevator door would open before I got to him so he would not have to talk to me.

The elevator had just opened when I got to him. He stepped into the elevator but held the button to keep the door open. He would not look at me in the eyes, and I could tell he wanted to get away. I pressured him to tell me Regina’s status. He said he did not know what to say. Looking down, I could see his tears hit the floor when he said, She probably won’t make it, and you need to call in the family. We had already done so, and he knew that.

I told him we knew it was close, and he said, You don’t understand. I don’t see how she could make it through the night. My suggestion is that you pray. I remember him saying, It’s the only thing I know to tell you.

My heart stopped. I went back to my spot in the ICU waiting room and lay there all night, chatting with my friend God. It’s the first time I had ever done so in my life for that length of time. The night went by fast, and yet, it seemed as if maybe I fell asleep, but I know I didn’t. Most of my talk that night was questions and demands. How could you let Regina suffer? When and how will this end? What did we do wrong to deserve this punishment? How can we afford to pay for this? Are you real or just some story told over generations? If you are real, identify yourself and make this right! Wake Regina up so we can go home and run our lives the way we want to! On and on and on.

I had not really read the Bible or studied God’s word, so I really didn’t know how to listen to Him. I sat through a lot of Sundays at PWUMC, giving our $20 or so, and I was holding up my end of the deal; now I felt God should hold up His end of the deal. I thought we made a deal, and that when you make a deal, you keep your word.

The next morning, the doctor came into the waiting room early. He had a pleasant look on his face, and the fear from the night before appeared to have diminished some. He said, I really don’t know how she made it through the night, but she did. Whatever you did last night, you might want to keep it up.

I suppose that was possibly the first time I realized God does like to hear from me. The doctor went on to tell us we should consider cutting off all visitors except close family. He in no way expected that Regina could survive this and that it would be best to limit who was around her going forward. The doctor said that it was in God’s hands while Regina lay in a coma in the same ICU room she had been in for over three weeks now.

It was in the middle of the day. Sarah and I ran to the cafeteria to get a bite to eat. We had worked hard to keep everyone away from Regina and limited her visitors to just family and close friends. On our way back to the ICU unit, we discussed going on to see Regina together before Sarah ran home for some errands she had to get done. We were both spending most of our time at the hospital and we split our time to make sure at least one of us was there with Regina at all times. When we walked into Regina’s room, there were three women (a mother and her two daughters) standing around the foot of the bed.

One of the daughters introduced themselves, because the mother, who was an acquaintance of Regina’s from Park University, did not speak English very well. They had heard about Regina’s situation from some of the employees at Park. They went on to explain that they thought they could help her too if we would allow them to pray for her.

I looked at Sarah and she looked at me, both of us just a little disgusted with not only their request but with them even being in the room. And yet, I said, Sure, why not?

These women from another country, who spoke in Spanish, began to pray and prayed and prayed and prayed. It was a prayer unlike I had ever heard anyone ever pray before. They prayed so powerfully and with such conviction. It was not a chat with a friend as I prayed, but rather a discussion with their Father, and they were not happy with the situation and fully expected their Father to make this right. It went on for at least fifteen minutes, maybe longer. It was the longest and most intense prayer I had ever heard.

Later that day, my mom and I were in the room with Regina. There were so many things hooked to her, and her dead foot looked blacker than I remember from the day before. I was sitting in the chair beside her bed, facing her, crying, and telling my mom how bad it felt to see her like this. I was kind of leaning to Regina’s side with my hands crossed, not necessarily in prayer, but just sad and distraught to what the room was showing us. Regina was completely in her coma and would not respond to me in any way no matter what I would ask her. My mom was standing on the other side of the bed directly across from me. Mom was doing her best to comfort me, and yet, at the same time, I could see the fear and sadness in her eyes as well.

The following day, the nurse called me to Regina’s room, and she had actually opened her eyes and woken out of her coma. By now, Regina had seven to eight doctors, and not one of them could explain why she woke when she did. Some would say, That’s just how it works, and some would say, Only God could have directed this outcome, and the prayers pushed it over the finish line.

They all agreed she had a huge hill to climb to recover from her traumatic shock, and there were no guarantees she would ever leave the hospital. I suspected that the prayer from that acquaintance from Park University and her two