"But Not For Her"

This is taken from gwu-today.com and written by my friend Adam Barnes. 
It relays a major event that took place in my life.  The death of a friend.  
And a lesson to me, that sometimes the words we say, impact others far beyond what we could imagine.  God likes to use us when we don't expect it, then later he shows us what he did, and it leaves you speechless.  
HOSANNA.  
I mainly post this because it has impacted me. Because of something I said. 
But Because of how GOD used it. 
Thanks to Adam Barnes to have the strength to remember and record the events that took place on Tuesday January 17th 2012, a day Gardner-Webb University and our families will never forget.



Article: But Not For Her

by Adam Barnes
gwu-today.com reporter
EDITORS NOTE: gwu-today.com reporter Adam Barnes was a friend and classmate of Ariane Patterson, a Gardner-Webb University student who died Tuesday January 17, 2012 in class. It was her 21st birthday. He has provided an insight to how that day will remain etched in his mind.

Tuesday, January 17. The day started out like any other. Woke up. Showered. Brushed my teeth. Got dressed. Out the door.

Bam. The brisk, cool air of a January morning greeted my face with a chilling embrace. I winced in response. Nevertheless, I pressed onward to get some breakfast and head to Dimensions, the Chapel service of Gardner-Webb University. I endured the service, alternating between reading for a class and listening to the speaker, Carolyn McKinstry.

The service ended. I walked out and head to the Campus Ministries office to complete some work for my class, the same class that distracted me during the service. Being a Tuesday-Thursday class, it was our second class of the semester – the one where all the work starts.

The class, “Life and Letters of Paul,” naturally offered much potential for us students. Getting to study the life of a great servant of the Lord is always exciting, and there was a sense of joy in the classroom from the topic and the connectedness we shared as students.

Given that this was an upper-level religious course, most of us had experienced being a class together before. I entered the class a little late, took my seat and glance around the classroom at the community of friends.

I glanced in the back corner, and there is Ariane Noelle Patterson. I have had classes with Ariane on a daily basis for the past two semesters, and was slated to do so again this semester. I smiled and waved at her, and she flashed that big smile of hers at me and returned the greeting. It would be the last time I saw that memorable smile.


Class got underway, and we began to dive into our topic for the day – an introductory chapter of one our textbooks discussing Paul’s background. Dr. Scott Shauf, the professor of the class, began conversing on some of the reflections our class turned in. He was interrupted.

A raised voice came from the row next to me, “Dr. Shauf!” it said. The voice came from Rachael Bradley, who immediately turned around and with same mouth spoke the sweet name “Ariane!”

I turn around, and to my horror I see Ariane, back hunched over, head face down on her desk, shaking. Immediately, half of my classmates jumped up and tried to help stabilize her.

Foster Carney, an EMT, was the first by her side. He immediately held her body up, to prevent her from falling. He instructed us to call someone. Dr. Shauf ran to his office to alert University Police. I can still hear the sound of my friend Darrin Holland’s voice as he called 911 and explained the situation.

“I’m having a hard time feeling a pulse,” claimed Foster. My heart, along with the hearts of all in the classroom sunk.  No pulse means no beating heart. No beating heart means no life. Ariane, with all her joy and love, was slipping away from us.

Following Foster’s instructions, myself and two other guys left the room to direct EMS. What was realistically probably five minutes or so seemed like hours. While the friendship we shared beckoned me to stay and be with her, getting EMS to her as quickly as possible was much more important.

EMS came, and I was relegated to holding the holding the door open for the eight or so that rushed in. I do not know all the details of what transpired in that room, and I’m not sure I want to. As quickly as I suppose was possible, EMS took Ariane out of the class room, down the elevator, and into the ambulance. She was gone.

With the knowledge that my assistance holding doors was no longer needed, I walked back up a flight of stairs not knowing what to expect. Most of the class was outside, and Foster asked if we could gather around and pray for her. Perhaps it’s because we felt a yearning need to pray for her, perhaps it’s because we did not know what else we could do, or perhaps because we were just going through the motions, we circled up and we prayed.

And man, did we pray. We prayed earnestly for God to be with Ariane, to heal her. To guide the EMS with the wisdom to help the best way possible. We thanked our Creator for Ariane, and the beautiful creation that she was. Halfway through our prayers,  a lady from Gardner-Webb’s nursing program grabbed my arm and joined that sacred moment.

As we closed out the prayer, Foster stated something that is profound in retrospect. He said, “God, you are great and mighty and we give her over to you.”

We ended and walked back in the classroom. Noticing that the room was disheveled due to the necessity of space, we started to straighten things back out so we could sit down comfortably.

Dr. Shauf, as all of us were, seemed to be at a loss of words and direction. Carrying on with class did not seem to be logical, and after a suggestion from a fellow classmate, we continued to bathe the situation in prayer.

After another period of praying, Dr. Shauf asked Foster if he could give us any medical insight as to what we should expect or what he thought occurred. Heart failure was his prognosis. However, he was optimistic. According to the electrocardiography (EKG) results, he explained, her heart was still beating at about 40 beats per minute. Certainly not ideal, but if they could make it to the hospital quick enough, Foster had hope for a return within a few weeks.

Given that he had the medical experience and we didn’t, we believed him and while concern still permeated the air, we too were optimistic that things would work out. Things did work out. Maybe not in the sense we were hoping for, but they did work out.

Class let out early and I went to make my way through some lunch. After eating some food, I went back to Suttle Hall to see if Campus Ministries had heard anything about Ariane. I ran into the secretary Teresa Davis, and she told me the news. “She didn’t make it.”

It was her 21st birthday.

Not knowing what else to say, she gave me a hug, and we went our ways. I strolled into the solemn student office, and slumped down on a couch. Also in there were close friends Meagan Allen and Hannah Galloway.

Still in a state of shock and immense sorrow, Meagan asked me what I was thinking. I responded with as many words as I could, “this sucks.” Immediately, Hannah responded, “Not for her.”

Not for her.

I left shortly after. I needed to breathe. I needed to weep.

As the news spread over Gardner-Webb, the campus was filled with tears and hugs. Sorrow, as awful as it is, has a profound sense of unifying people.

There was a worship service that night. While rain fell from the heavens, tears fell from the eyes of multiple souls at Gardner-Webb. In the midst of our grief, we clung to the faithfulness of God. We may not always understand His will and love, but we trust it. Just as Ariane did.

It’s been a sad couple of days for us here at Gardner-Webb. It will continue to be tough for us. Death is bizarre and difficult.

But not for her.