Warrzone
Member
First, an apology for the length of this post. If you actually read the entire thing, you'll understand why I couldn't seem to condense it.
A Glimpse of Heaven
My story begins and ends on the day I died. For those who don’t know, I suffer from a neuromuscular disease. Progressively, over the last few years, it was slowly killing me, robbing my muscles of the ability to contract, even the muscles used for breathing. My wife, Cory, and I planned, as best we could, for my passing. In body and soul, it was hard. Then, it happened. One day when I had been sick, my muscles were too weak to take even one more breath, and I died. This is my story.
It was always worst when I was sick; the every-day struggle to force my muscles to work against their will was compounded by the extra effort required to cough. Illnesses that brought on fits of coughing became life-threatening for me, as they exhausted my diaphragm to the point of failure. Breathing is life, as they say in the medical books, and the breathing thing was becoming sketchy, at best.
I’d been sick for about a week, and Cory and I had been up all night. She had been cooking for me in the night, feeding me calories so I could continue the fight to breathe. It had to be terrifying for her... She is the strongest person I know. At one point, she asked if I needed an ambulance, but I had previously decided some time ago to decline a ventilator when I could no longer breathe on my own. I didn’t want to die on a machine in a cold hospital room, surrounded by strangers, so she cooked. Night became dawn, then morning became noon, and the fight was still on. By lunchtime, I was too weak to eat. There was no extra energy for chewing and swallowing; every scrap of fight I had left in me had to go toward breathing, one breath after another.
Sometime in the afternoon, the mechanism in the body that automates breathing failed. If I didn’t consciously force another breath to happen, it didn’t. I don’t know where Cory was, but I like to think that she was getting some much-needed sleep. I was beyond her help at that point, regardless. By then, I found myself having to wait longer and longer after each exhalation before taking in another breath, trying to preserve what precious little diaphragm strength I had left. Then, it happened. I tried to take just one more breath, and I couldn’t... My diaphragm wouldn’t move... Nothing happened, and it made me mad, and scared. I fought, enraged, fearful, to take another breath, and still nothing...
That’s when I realized I had just taken my last living breath on this Earth, and my anger and fear was replaced with unspeakable sadness. I was sad for Cory, who had fought by my side for so long, that she would have to somehow raise our two girls, who lost their Dad, alone. Her struggle was far from over. I was sad for my two little girls. They shouldn’t have to know such sadness at their tender young ages. My youngest would be too young to even remember me. With my last shred of consciousness, I fought to breathe again, for them. Nothing... Thy will be done.
My world went dark, and I could feel someone telling me to let my body go and free my soul, and everything would be OK. I could almost recognize the voice, but I couldn’t quite place it. It was as if everyone who had ever loved me was speaking through one voice, comforting me. The inner drive to continue to fight for my girls was overwhelming, and leaving my body meant that I was dead. I was dead... Again, I felt that comforting presence telling me I didn’t have to fight anymore, to just let my soul go free, leave my earthly body behind, and know the love intended for me. At that moment, I could feel all the love the world had ever known and ever would know, and the peace was beyond comprehension. With peace, I surrendered myself to God. That’s when I realized it wasn’t dark... It was dusk.
I was in an ancient forest, almost floating near the treetops, my worldly body left behind, and I could see a young man below in the distance. It was dusk, nearly dark, yet I could see him clearly; he seemed to glow from within. He knew I was there and turned to look at me, and I could feel him telling me to have no fear and to walk with him, then he turned and began to walk slowly along the path. I could see that he was carrying a wooden bow or staff in his strong hands. I followed him and approached him soundlessly, and when I drew near, he turned again and looked at me. I thought I recognized him, and as the thought entered my mind, I could feel him saying, “Don’t you know me?” I looked into his eyes and saw my grandfather. With that spark of recognition, he smiled and nodded, almost amused. I didn’t, yet, know why. Again, I could feel him telling me to be at peace and walk with him. So, we walked.
The timelessness I experienced is beyond my understanding, for I cannot tell you how long we spent together in the forest. It seemed eternal. It was the most serene and beautiful place imaginable, every leaf, flower, and blade of grass, alive and perceptibly intertwined with each other, with my grandfather, and with me by the love that is the Holy Spirit. I was filled with and sheltered by the love of God, and I was intensely aware that I was connected to every person and living thing that had ever existed. With that awareness, he smiled again. In this, the words of our language cannot begin to illuminate the truth.
Just as I was walking in the ancient forest with my grandfather, I also found myself sitting on the vast and timeless plains with my other grandfather. He was with me, although I could not see him, and it was as if he had his arms around my very soul, comforting me with the warmth of his presence. We were watching a multitude of Indians, joyfully, purposefully dancing around a fire. I could feel my grandfather telling me that they were all my ancestors through the beginning of time, and they were all dancing just for me. We sat by the fire and watched them dance, basking in the love of God. Then, I could see the dawn on the horizon, with all its Heavenly colors, and I could sense an excitement...
In the forest, I could see the first rays of light filtering through the trees. My grandfather, still glowing from within, looked up at the light and smiled. He turned to me, and I could feel him telling me that it was time for me to go. My heart sank; I did not want to leave this paradise. He comforted me, “Don’t you understand? We walk this walk together every day of your life. I am with you always, watching over you, nurturing you, and carrying you when you haven’t the strength to carry yourself.” We stood in silence as it sank in... Then he said again, “Don’t you know me?” I looked into his eyes. It was Jesus, and in seeing Him, I saw God.
He smiled and nodded a third time. JESUS was waiting for me and walked with me in the ancient garden at the time of my passing. HE sat with me and watched the angels of Heaven dancing just for me. HE filled me with the love of God and showed me the truth of the Holy Spirit. Then, He said, “It’s time for you to go. You have work to do.” I didn’t understand; I was dead... He almost laughed when He said, “Didn’t you pay attention in Sunday school? You have everlasting life! Your earthly body is but a vessel. The Holy Spirit fills you, so that I am a part of you, and you a part of me. You have always been alive and always will be; your soul knows no death.” His mirth subsided, and he smiled softly, “It is time for you to go. You have work to do.”
To this day, I don’t know why I was granted this wonderful gift, this glimpse of Heaven. It is not my place to know, I suppose, but I am awed and humbled beyond words. One would assume things like this would only happen to those far more deserving than I, people like Cory. Clearly, it has nothing to do with that. Although I still struggle with neuromuscular disease, Jesus rescues this worn-out body every time it fails, and He will continue to do so. He always does. Although unfamiliar with this story, the doctors say my recovery must be a miracle. If they only knew...
I have returned to this worldly life, changed in ways that most people wouldn't believe if I told them. I do not know, exactly, what work God would have me do in the end. Right now, however, I am compelled to tell this story. As I sit here and wonder why, the fact is, I don’t know. All I know is that He wants me to tell it... Thy will be done.
A Glimpse of Heaven
My story begins and ends on the day I died. For those who don’t know, I suffer from a neuromuscular disease. Progressively, over the last few years, it was slowly killing me, robbing my muscles of the ability to contract, even the muscles used for breathing. My wife, Cory, and I planned, as best we could, for my passing. In body and soul, it was hard. Then, it happened. One day when I had been sick, my muscles were too weak to take even one more breath, and I died. This is my story.
It was always worst when I was sick; the every-day struggle to force my muscles to work against their will was compounded by the extra effort required to cough. Illnesses that brought on fits of coughing became life-threatening for me, as they exhausted my diaphragm to the point of failure. Breathing is life, as they say in the medical books, and the breathing thing was becoming sketchy, at best.
I’d been sick for about a week, and Cory and I had been up all night. She had been cooking for me in the night, feeding me calories so I could continue the fight to breathe. It had to be terrifying for her... She is the strongest person I know. At one point, she asked if I needed an ambulance, but I had previously decided some time ago to decline a ventilator when I could no longer breathe on my own. I didn’t want to die on a machine in a cold hospital room, surrounded by strangers, so she cooked. Night became dawn, then morning became noon, and the fight was still on. By lunchtime, I was too weak to eat. There was no extra energy for chewing and swallowing; every scrap of fight I had left in me had to go toward breathing, one breath after another.
Sometime in the afternoon, the mechanism in the body that automates breathing failed. If I didn’t consciously force another breath to happen, it didn’t. I don’t know where Cory was, but I like to think that she was getting some much-needed sleep. I was beyond her help at that point, regardless. By then, I found myself having to wait longer and longer after each exhalation before taking in another breath, trying to preserve what precious little diaphragm strength I had left. Then, it happened. I tried to take just one more breath, and I couldn’t... My diaphragm wouldn’t move... Nothing happened, and it made me mad, and scared. I fought, enraged, fearful, to take another breath, and still nothing...
That’s when I realized I had just taken my last living breath on this Earth, and my anger and fear was replaced with unspeakable sadness. I was sad for Cory, who had fought by my side for so long, that she would have to somehow raise our two girls, who lost their Dad, alone. Her struggle was far from over. I was sad for my two little girls. They shouldn’t have to know such sadness at their tender young ages. My youngest would be too young to even remember me. With my last shred of consciousness, I fought to breathe again, for them. Nothing... Thy will be done.
My world went dark, and I could feel someone telling me to let my body go and free my soul, and everything would be OK. I could almost recognize the voice, but I couldn’t quite place it. It was as if everyone who had ever loved me was speaking through one voice, comforting me. The inner drive to continue to fight for my girls was overwhelming, and leaving my body meant that I was dead. I was dead... Again, I felt that comforting presence telling me I didn’t have to fight anymore, to just let my soul go free, leave my earthly body behind, and know the love intended for me. At that moment, I could feel all the love the world had ever known and ever would know, and the peace was beyond comprehension. With peace, I surrendered myself to God. That’s when I realized it wasn’t dark... It was dusk.
I was in an ancient forest, almost floating near the treetops, my worldly body left behind, and I could see a young man below in the distance. It was dusk, nearly dark, yet I could see him clearly; he seemed to glow from within. He knew I was there and turned to look at me, and I could feel him telling me to have no fear and to walk with him, then he turned and began to walk slowly along the path. I could see that he was carrying a wooden bow or staff in his strong hands. I followed him and approached him soundlessly, and when I drew near, he turned again and looked at me. I thought I recognized him, and as the thought entered my mind, I could feel him saying, “Don’t you know me?” I looked into his eyes and saw my grandfather. With that spark of recognition, he smiled and nodded, almost amused. I didn’t, yet, know why. Again, I could feel him telling me to be at peace and walk with him. So, we walked.
The timelessness I experienced is beyond my understanding, for I cannot tell you how long we spent together in the forest. It seemed eternal. It was the most serene and beautiful place imaginable, every leaf, flower, and blade of grass, alive and perceptibly intertwined with each other, with my grandfather, and with me by the love that is the Holy Spirit. I was filled with and sheltered by the love of God, and I was intensely aware that I was connected to every person and living thing that had ever existed. With that awareness, he smiled again. In this, the words of our language cannot begin to illuminate the truth.
Just as I was walking in the ancient forest with my grandfather, I also found myself sitting on the vast and timeless plains with my other grandfather. He was with me, although I could not see him, and it was as if he had his arms around my very soul, comforting me with the warmth of his presence. We were watching a multitude of Indians, joyfully, purposefully dancing around a fire. I could feel my grandfather telling me that they were all my ancestors through the beginning of time, and they were all dancing just for me. We sat by the fire and watched them dance, basking in the love of God. Then, I could see the dawn on the horizon, with all its Heavenly colors, and I could sense an excitement...
In the forest, I could see the first rays of light filtering through the trees. My grandfather, still glowing from within, looked up at the light and smiled. He turned to me, and I could feel him telling me that it was time for me to go. My heart sank; I did not want to leave this paradise. He comforted me, “Don’t you understand? We walk this walk together every day of your life. I am with you always, watching over you, nurturing you, and carrying you when you haven’t the strength to carry yourself.” We stood in silence as it sank in... Then he said again, “Don’t you know me?” I looked into his eyes. It was Jesus, and in seeing Him, I saw God.
He smiled and nodded a third time. JESUS was waiting for me and walked with me in the ancient garden at the time of my passing. HE sat with me and watched the angels of Heaven dancing just for me. HE filled me with the love of God and showed me the truth of the Holy Spirit. Then, He said, “It’s time for you to go. You have work to do.” I didn’t understand; I was dead... He almost laughed when He said, “Didn’t you pay attention in Sunday school? You have everlasting life! Your earthly body is but a vessel. The Holy Spirit fills you, so that I am a part of you, and you a part of me. You have always been alive and always will be; your soul knows no death.” His mirth subsided, and he smiled softly, “It is time for you to go. You have work to do.”
To this day, I don’t know why I was granted this wonderful gift, this glimpse of Heaven. It is not my place to know, I suppose, but I am awed and humbled beyond words. One would assume things like this would only happen to those far more deserving than I, people like Cory. Clearly, it has nothing to do with that. Although I still struggle with neuromuscular disease, Jesus rescues this worn-out body every time it fails, and He will continue to do so. He always does. Although unfamiliar with this story, the doctors say my recovery must be a miracle. If they only knew...
I have returned to this worldly life, changed in ways that most people wouldn't believe if I told them. I do not know, exactly, what work God would have me do in the end. Right now, however, I am compelled to tell this story. As I sit here and wonder why, the fact is, I don’t know. All I know is that He wants me to tell it... Thy will be done.
