My cousin sent me a video made by John Burke on near-death experiences. I was on vacation when I received it and forgot about it until my daughter asked me if I had seen it. I said no, and I watched it as soon as I could. It’s funny that as someone who has had a near-death experience herself, I was and still am a skeptic. Oh, how human am I?
I found it riveting and didn’t want it to stop. I wanted to hear more, much more. I could relate in a lot of ways. My experience wasn’t as dramatic as some, but it was extremely real, just the same.
Here is my story—I was in my 40s and became severely sick. I thought I had the flu—vomiting, diarrhea, and all the regular symptoms that come with it. After five days, I became so sick that I had to crawl to the bathroom; I was too weak to walk. My husband finally insisted that he take me to the emergency room. I guess my three children were in school that day. I hate to admit that I do not remember much. I was that sick.
As we pulled into the parking lot of the hospital, he ran to get a wheelchair, as I was too sick to walk in on my own. While sitting in the waiting room, I became so ill that I slid out of the chair onto the floor and remember feeling so much better, just lying on that cold tile floor. Of course, the staff wasn’t having it. They kept telling me I had to sit in the chair, which I couldn’t. They determined that I was, in fact, very sick, so they got a gurney and took me into a treatment room. The nurse tried to get my blood pressure, she had me sit up, and then she began yelling and pushed the code button, all the while shouting orders. I lay there on that gurney feeling so glad that I finally had someone to take care of me. I guess my blood pressure had dropped to 60/30.
I was rushed into another room, hooked up to several monitors and IV’s.
Here’s how I remember things happening. As I was lying in the room, approximately 10 people crowded around me; some were nurses, and some were doctors. All were talking fast and moving fast. In my mind, I was not afraid at all. I wasn’t praying and asking God to take care of my family (which I thought was interesting), I was thanking him for my family, and for everything he had done in my life. I felt so much peace. I rested in his arms and felt great love and comfort. Had I died in that moment, I would not have cared at all. I wouldn’t have been sad because I knew God had complete control.
And then it happened, I was up above everyone in the room, looking down at my body while they were all working on me. I was separated from myself. I was in a completely different dimension. I could hear everything they said, and I knew all their names. I could even hear the fear in their voices.
The next thing I remember is waking up in a room with two nurses tending to me. I smiled and said their names. I then told them what had happened and mentioned the names of the others in the room. They called in a couple of the doctors and nurses so I could tell them. I listed the names of those attending me. One doctor was visibly shaken and left the room, returning a while later. The nurse told me I had upset her because I had listed everyone's name. I didn’t mispronounce anyone's name, nor leave anyone out. They were all very amazed and said that they had had a few other patients who had also had near-death experiences.
That was the first time I had heard that term. Near-death. I asked my doctor—Was I near death? She said, Oh yes, had you waited even another hour to come to the ER, you would not be alive right now. We almost lost you.
My diagnosis? E Coli. A bacterial infection. Usually not fatal. Mine had turned quite serious, though. I was severely dehydrated, and my kidneys were failing. I am very thankful that my husband was insistent that I go to the ER, and I am also grateful for my near-death experience. I have never, even to this day, experienced such peace and comfort from God. I don’t understand his reason for having me go through that, unless it was to lessen the pain and heartache that I am feeling over the profound loss of my grandson Jack. Grief has its own category. It’s a pain like no other.
From several spiritual experiences in my life, I know that Jack is with God in heaven. I want to desperately cling to that fact. It’s not a hope for me but a fact. I know that I know he is with God.
It’s just like God—the way he does things—that my cousin would send me a video, and I would vividly remember my own near-death experience. That’s how he works in my life—quietly and in small doses so that I can absorb and handle each life hurdle. God moments. That’s what I call them.
Just as the Bible teaches, we see through a glass darkly. I can’t see the future, but he can and does. That’s where my trust has to kick in. It’s not that I won’t feel times of great sadness and loss, but I will also feel times of great joy. I walk with God. I always will, sometimes with my eyes and ears wide open and sometimes with them closed, and asking him to help me and lead, because I can not do this life alone without him. I wouldn’t want to, I would give up. However, with God, wow, what an amazing life! Here on earth and also in heaven. I just need to remember that!
