By Tabitha Evans Moore | EDITOR & PUBLISHER
Bethany Weatherspoon says it took four years for her life to feel normal again after the sudden death of her husband, Andy, at the young age of 42. The shock and disbelief had started to fade, and she no longer felt as if she were in emotional freefall. She and her two young sons, Grayson and Clayton, were making plans. They had trips to go on and concerts to attend, but one phone call brought all that to a screeching halt.
As she headed to a meeting where she works at Ascension Saint Thomas West in Nashville, she got a call that changed everything. A nurse on the other end of the phone called with the words no woman ever wants to hear: We spotted something concerning on your screening mammogram and we need you to get a second, diagnostic mammogram. She tried not to freak out.
“I immediately called my sister and told her not to freak out, but that I needed to repeat the mammogram. She, of course, along with me, immediately freaked out,” Bethany says.
That call came four years and one day after losing Andy in March 2021.
Not long after, her doctor, Dr. Lisa White at the Comprehensive Breast Clinic at Murfreesboro Medical Center, called her with the news. It was cancer.
“I remember looking around at everyone receiving chemo that day and just crying,” she says. “All I could think about was the idea of leaving my kids without a parent. I remember thinking why me? I am tired of all the hurdles. I am tired of all the trauma.”
Personal faith and God winks
At church that Sunday, she turned to her pastor, Joel Capizzi of Crossway Church, for comfort. He delivered a message that gave her a due north.
“He told me that it was okay to ask, ‘why me,’ but it was not okay to stay there,” she says.
As soon as she stepped back into faith over fear, miracles started to happen. A healthcare professional would catch something that the previous ones had missed, a support system began to form around her, and she found a way to focus on gratitude for each new day.
“So, I chose to glorify God during this season of my life,” she says. “I have a village that shows up for me no matter what.”
Like many of us, Bethany turned to music to soothe her troubled soul, and she says one song, Hard Fought Hallelujah, by Brandon Lake with Jelly Roll became her constant companion – especially on bad days.
It’s a gritty, triumphant anthem about faith forged through real struggle – a song that doesn’t shy away from hardship but instead celebrates finding strength amid darkness. In interviews, Lake often talks about choosing Jelly Roll for the song because of his authentic comeback story. She says when she listens to it, it often feels like a message from Andy.
“I see what I call God winks all the time,” she says. “Some mornings driving into work, the sun will hit just right, and I can see him shining through the clouds. At that moment, Hard Fought Hallelujah will come on the radio. I know that’s God winking up there with Andy.”
Power of Community
Bethany says she’s locked in on beating this thing – not just for herself but for her two young sons.
“I won’t back down. We have two boys that need a parent here. I chose to continue my fight with everything in me. They are my world, and I refuse to give up.”
That fight has been made easier, Bethany says, by a Lynchburg community that’s wrapped its arms around all three of them. It’s injected her with resilience and a bend-but-don’t-break attitude. She no longer fears her cancer diagnosis. She’s embraced it.
“Every morning, I wake up and I thank God that I get to take care of my kids. That I get to use my career to help others during their most vulnerable moments, and that I get to continue in life when others do not,” she says.
Being lifted up by those who love her, and even complete strangers, gives her quiet courage and the ability to both ask for and receive help when she needs it. It’s a lesson she says Andy would be proud of her for learning. If he were here, she says, he’d remind her to remain calm, to take time for herself when she needs it, and to let herself be helped.
Helping others heals her
In the end, Bethany says both the community and her boys keep her going on the tough days when she just wants to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over her head.
“They push me to get up, get dressed and show up every day – even when I don’t feel good,” she says. “I may cry it out in the shower, but I still get up, get dressed, and show up.”
She also says her work as a nurse reminds her that she’s not alone in her health struggles – that getting to help others through their darkest and most vulnerable moments, also heals her.
“Twenty years of being a nurse molded me into the person I am today,” she says. “I get to help others when they are also in the toughest season of their lives. Choosing to focus my energy on helping others takes the spotlight off my battles.”
In small towns like Lynchburg, community isn’t just a concept. It’s a living, breathing organism that offers an invisible support network under those who need it most. Gossip may spread like wildfire, but so does love.
Whether it’s a casserole that just magically shows up at your front door, or a utility bill that anonymously gets paid, there’s a whisper network of “we’ve got you” that can’t be denied.
“Everyone has shown up and showed out,” Bethany says.
This Saturday, August 9 Bethany’s community will “show out” again at a fundraising Spaghetti Supper & Silent Auction at her church located at 1161 Hilltop Circle from 3-6 p.m. All proceeds will go directly to Bethany and her boys.
“I will never be able to say thank you enough to our community, friends and family,” she says. “It means more than words can express. Who could have ever thought a little ole person like me would ever have this support behind them.”
If you would like to donate to the fundraiser, you can reach out to Kelly Best (931-808-8542), Karen Blankenship (931-307-1753), or Hannah Harrison (931-273-0775). •
About The Lynchburg Times
The Lynchburg Times is an independent, woman-owned newspaper rooted in the heart of southern middle Tennessee. Led by a Tulane-educated journalist with over two decades of experience covering this region, we shine a light on the people, politics, and cultural pulse of a changing South. From breaking news to slow storytelling, we believe local journalism should inform, empower, and preserve what makes this place unique. Supported by readers and community partners, we’re proud to be part of the new Southern narrative – one story at a time. [Support us here.]