There’s an episode of M*A*S*H where a wounded soldier comes into camp allegedly suffering from what is known as the Messiah Complex – in other words he believes he is Jesus Christ. As is the case with so many of that show’s episodes, there are powerful messages sprinkled throughout the often humorous 30-minute segment.

 

One scene, in particular, came to mind as I was on a vacation this past week. As the soldier lies in bed he’s consulted by Major Sidney Freedman, a psychiatrist brought in to see if the soldier is faking the condition in order to earn a discharge.

 

Freedman sits by the soldier’s bedside and asks “is it true that God answers all prayers?” The solider, as a tear forms in his eye, responds, “Yes. Sometimes the answer is no.”

 

That thought formed in my head Tuesday night as I was out of the country and returned to my room and briefly looked at my cell phone to see I had several personal messages on Facebook – the only type of communication I could receive. The messages were ones I would rather not have received. All of them let me know that Jack Rollins, a 5-year-old who battled the scourge of cancer with the courage of a battle-tested warrior, had passed away.

 

If ever there was a child, anyone for that matter that I’ve encountered in my 48 years on this earth that was lifted up in prayer more than Jack Rollins, I certainly can’t recall it. Whether it was publicly on social media, at public prayer vigils and in church settings, or privately by many who prayed in their own manner, it’s safe to say those asking for a cure, a miracle for Jack Rollins during his two-plus-year battle were easily in the tens of thousands if not the hundreds of thousands.

 

Why wasn’t he cured? Where was the miracle that so many bowed their heads for and grasped hands – many times with total strangers – asking for one to be delivered? To paraphrase from another M*A*S*H quote, if I had the answer I’d be at the Mayo Clinic. I’m not.

 

Situations such as the one involving Jack Rollins try our souls and test our faith. I live so far from the foot of the cross for me to offer any type of counseling on the religious front would be the ultimate in hypocrisy. All I can say for reasons I can’t fully understand, it was far too soon for those beautiful blue eyes to close.

 

Here’s what I do understand. While myself and I’m certain everyone that reads this would much rather have never heard of Jack Rollins if it would have meant avoiding this outcome, I can tell you that all of our lives were enhanced by his presence.

 

Jack Rollins at age 5 did something I’ve seen almost no one do. He brought people together not just locally or statewide, but across this country and likely beyond.

 

A 5-year-old child taught us how to live. He taught us how to put petty differences aside. He taught us that our own self-loathing is often ridiculous with the blessings in front of us; taking for granted the greatest of things such as being healthy and to unconditionally love. He also showed us the joy in the simple things there for the taking by all of us if we so choose.

 

We waited for reports on how Jack was progressing. We celebrated the good news that came on Jack’s health on the Facebook page created by family to keep the community updated on his progress. We cried at the setbacks.

 

Throughout it all, it was difficult to process the pain of Jack’s mother and father – Brooke and Ryan – and the others that were close to Jack through the bond of blood and friendship. Part of me couldn’t fathom their pain and a part of me simply didn’t want to.

 

Sadly, this isn’t the first child with local ties lost to a dreaded form of cancer known as neuroblastoma. I would prefer never to have to think about or write about it again other than to say it’s been eradicated and unceremoniously thrown into the trash bin of history.

 

I do know I’ll think of Jack Rollins again. I’ll think of a child whose innocence and love for Spiderman, Legos and to one day play football for Bridgeport High School were not impacted by cancer. I’ll think of the Rollins’ family and their friends who never gave up hope, never gave up faith in a situation where they would not have been blamed had they done just that.

 

As we say goodbye to Jack, I’ll think forever of those piercing eyes and that megawatt smile. It was a smile that could light up the world and hold it together at the same time. It was our little Superhero’s super power – and it was cancer’s kryptonite.

 

Rest in Peace little Jack. Your example of Grace was an answer to our prayers.

 

Editor's Note: Top photo shows Jack Rollins getting to visit a Bridgeport High School football practice as he heads out of the players' tunnel the day before the Indians would win their third straight state title. In the second picture, Jack is shown with his superhero friends during one of his hospital stays, while he gets some love from his mother Brooke in the third picture. Below, Jack talks a little bit of football with Dante Bonamico. Top and bottom pictures submitted by BHS football mothers; photo by Joey Signorelli of www.sigsphotography.com.