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Informationen zum Autor W. Lee Warren, MD, is an award-winning author, brain surgeon, patent-holding inventor, and Iraq War veteran. He is the author of I’ve Seen the End of You —winner of the ECPA Christian Book Award—and No Place to Hide . In addition to his full-time practice as a neurosurgeon, Dr. Warren hosts a podcast exploring the complex interplay between faith and science in unlocking the secrets of the mind, body, and spirit for better living and for making sense of faith in difficult circumstances. He and his wife, Lisa, have four adult children and four grandchildren and live in North Platte, Nebraska. Klappentext "A neurosurgeon's powerful memoir of personal tragedy, grief, and recovery offers a roadmap to finding hope and even happiness when the worst happens, by placing trust in God"-- Leseprobe 1 Where on Earth Is Hope? The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. —Jesus, John 10:10, esv On Tuesday, August 20, 2013, my nineteen-year-old son Mitchell died of multiple stab wounds to his neck. His best friend also died in the same way that night but with only one wound. Whether the knife that was used to kill Mitch was in his hand or someone else’s, whether he was at fault or a victim, we will never know. It’s impossible for us to know. The official story is so far removed from what we know our gentle son to have been capable of, we cannot believe it. April 2021 North Platte, Nebraska “How many kids do you have?” you ask. I grit my teeth—a little carefully because I’ve cracked two molars in the eight years since my son Mitchell died. It’s the worst question you can ask bereaved parents because we immediately go into a private conversation with ourselves. I ask myself, Five? Or four? If I say four, it’s with an asterisk, but at least I don’t have to go down the waterslide this question is going to take me on if I answer truthfully. You didn’t mean for the question to hurt me, obviously, but there we are. Here’s how this plays out: If I say four, then the whole time we’re talking I’m emotionally flogging myself for ignoring the entire life of my beautiful son, just for the sake of sparing myself your inevitable apologies and your prying questions into what happened. I’m Peter at the foot of the cross, in shame about not owning up to who I really am. If I say five, I’m doing so in hopes that you’ll be like most people; you’ll nod and say, “That’s great! We have three.” But it never works out that way for me. There is a 367 percent chance that you’re going to respond by saying, “Wow! Tell me about them!” This is where I deploy tactics. I’ll go into great detail about Josh and his wife, Amber, and our amazing new grandson, Ryker. I’ll gush over Caity and Nate and their perfect angels, Scarlett and George. Then I’ll overshare about Kimber and her special-forces husband, Bryce, and their brilliant son, Jase, and about Kalyn in graduate school and-did-I-tell-you-about-her-research? And, oh boy, our grandkids are destined to be a bunch of world-class athletes and future CEOs, I tell ya! I’ll then try to change the subject, but of course, you’re an actuary or a CPA or some sort of math genius, and you stop me. “Wait, that’s only four.” So then it’s go time. Let’s do this. “We lost Mitch in 2013.” And you never ever just say “I’m so sorry” and move on with the conversation. Nope. You have to say it. “What happened?” I want to lie. “He died saving seventeen nuns, two kittens, and six puppies from a house fire. But he got them all out!” Unfortunately, my brain stops me. The internet is forever. It’s too easy for you to look it up, and for some reason people always do. So I ...
