7 Lessons From Heaven

by Mary C Neal

  —NANCY, CHATTANOOGA, TN

  My mother was born in 1924 and her brother was born a few years before her. I don’t know exactly the year. But when he was a little two-year-old baby, he caught scarlet fever and he was dying. His mother was rocking him on the front porch when suddenly he reached both his arms up, as if to be held by someone (there was no one there) and said, “Mama, the angels are here for me.” At that moment he died in her arms.2

  Even more common are reports from people who are dying seeing something or talking to someone not visible to the others in the room. They often see the beauty of heaven, a mother or mother figure, siblings, or people who weren’t yet known to have died. They often talk about getting ready for a trip, ask about their luggage or tickets, describe angels, or mention the name of the person who is coming to get them.

  Steve Jobs, the founder and CEO of Apple Computing, was recognized worldwide as a pioneer of the personal computer revolution and was sometimes referred to as a genius. Although a person of exceptional intelligence, vision, and drive, he was typical of so many other people: He was taken to Sunday school as a child but, at age thirteen, his response to seeing a photo of starving children in Biafra was to turn away from a God who would allow such suffering. Many people believe he later became a Buddhist, but toward the end of his life, he said, “I’m kind of 50/50 on believing in God.” He wanted something to endure but acknowledged it might just be wishful thinking. In his final moments, he stared past his loving family and proclaimed, “Oh wow, oh wow, oh wow.”3

  I keep wondering, What or whom did this brilliant man see that sparked such wonder?

  In 2012, my brother-in-law died of a rare brain infection. He was an extremely smart, quick-witted, and articulate man, but during the week prior to his death, his mental clarity waxed and waned. He was not a spiritual or religious man, but during more than one of his lucid phases when I was sitting at his bedside, he explained that he felt “trapped between the worlds.” He said he was going back and forth between our world and God’s world, and that he was speaking with angels. He asked if I could see them. He asked my sister to make sure their children knew Jesus.

  Stories of deathbed visions (DBVs) are even more common than near-death experiences and, similar to NDEs, have been described since antiquity. A DBV often gives a dying person a glimpse of deceased loved ones. Or angels appear to help them make their transition to the next world. These DBVs occur in the days, hours, or moments before death. I have read estimates that one-half to two-thirds of dying people report experiencing DBVs.4, 5, 6

  Remarkably, people in the same room or even at a distance can occasionally share in these end-of-life visions.

  Similar to NDEs, deathbed visions often include people who have already died, even if the experiencer does not yet know the person to be dead. An example of this was reported by William Barrett:

  Lady Barrett, an obstetrical surgeon in Dublin, delivered a healthy child to Doris (her last name was withheld from the written report), but Doris was dying of a hemorrhage. As the doctors waited next to the dying woman, she began to see things.

  As Lady Barrett tells it, “Suddenly she looked eagerly toward part of the room, a radiant smile illuminating her whole countenance. ‘Oh, lovely, lovely,’ she said. I asked, ‘What is lovely?’ ‘What I see,’ she replied in low, intense tones. ‘What do you see?’ ‘Lovely brightness—wonderful beings.’ It is difficult to describe the sense of reality conveyed by her intense absorption in the vision. Then—seeming to focus her attention more intently on one place for a moment—she exclaimed, almost with a kind of joyous cry: ‘Why, it’s father! He’s so glad I’m coming. He’s so glad.’ She spoke to her father, saying, ‘I am coming,’ then looked at me. When she looked at that same place again, she said, with a rather puzzled expression, ‘He has Vida with him.’ She turned to me and repeated, ‘Vida is with him.’ She then said, ‘You do want me, Dad; I am coming.’

  “Then she died. The sister of Doris, Vida, had died three weeks earlier, but since Doris was in such delicate condition, the death of her beloved sister was kept a secret from her.”7

  Another story about a shared DBV came to me from Katie:

  When my fiancé was minutes from his death, I sat beside his bed and reassured him that it was okay to let go and go to God. I let him know that I am a strong woman and that I would be all right. When I finished talking, he opened his eyes and looked deeply into my eyes. His eyes were shining with a light that came through them. We were both encased in some sort of a bubble that was not of this earth. I felt a very deep joy, love, happiness, and peace that we as humans cannot imagine. It was so intense, so beautiful. It seemed he spoke to me through his mind. One of the things he said was that it all makes sense in the end.

  This experience lasted approximately fifteen seconds. I was slowly taken back to myself and at that same moment, he slowly closed his eyes, let out a breath, and died.

  This was a very powerful experience. I feel blessed that this happened to me. I will never have any doubts that there is an afterlife that is peaceful. He died four years ago and came to me one time. I don’t care if anyone believes this or not. I do know that there is life after death and that we are protected and watched over by our loved ones.

  —KATIE, MCLEAN, VA

  VISITS FROM BEYOND

  Katie’s story also mentions that her fiancé came to her once after his death. This is quite frequently reported, and I have been asked many times whether I have “spoken” with my son since his death. On three occasions, I have had “dreams” in which Willie was present. I call them dreams but like so many other people who have shared their stories of nighttime visitations, I believe my son’s spirit was actually present.

  In the first visitation, my son and I just held each other while he told me he was fine. I could feel him and hear him. I’m not sure I could smell him, but I was able to take in his very essence.

  In the second visitation, I happily watched as he and his siblings lightheartedly played together on a swing set. I awoke with a deep longing to have my son for just one more day. This experience was so distressing that I never wanted another visitation.

  Several months later, however, Willie came again. God’s pervasive love filled the space as he and I stood together under a light pole in the dark of the universe. It is difficult to describe, but eventually I was asked to voluntarily relinquish his spirit. He pointed to where he lived and with heartbreaking compassion said, “I live there now.” I knew Willie was where he belonged, and I knew that we both had work to do, his in heaven and mine on Earth. I also knew that life on Earth is just a blink of time, and I was confident that Willie would be the first to greet me when my work on Earth is done.

  Despite this knowledge, relinquishing his spirit was the most difficult thing I have ever been asked to do. I gathered him in my arms, smothered him in my tears, and then lifted him up to the heavens. He was gone, and I knew I would not see him again during my physical life.

  Similar to the times when God directs angels to cross into our world, the people, or spirits, who come during a “dream visitation” seem to be sent with a purpose. The visit is never from someone who is still alive, and the person or animal in the visitation always appears healthy, relaxed, and at peace. They are whole and complete. The visitor is always loving, and without anger or disappointment during the visit, regardless of his or her relationship with the experiencer during life.

  Stories from the Cokeville, Wyoming, elementary school bombing in May 1986 may also show that, in addition to angelic visits, our deceased loved ones may be able to offer us help in times of need. Jennie Sorensen, who was a first-grader at the time of the Cokeville bombing, recounts:

  The whole afternoon was a large miracle encompassed with lots of smaller miracles, but a few miracles that I personally witnessed have been difficult over the years for me to share publicly. I reserved sharing anything for twenty years, besides with my immediate family and at very safe functions, bec
ause of potential ridicule from others. There was one very personal miracle for me that day. I had a “teacher” I did not know help me out of that burning classroom. I never said anything to anyone until we were looking through family albums for my grandma when I was eleven or twelve. When I saw one photo, I asked what grade this particular woman in the photo had taught and why she quit teaching after the bomb. My grandma looked at the picture of her aunt I was referring to and said she had never been a teacher that she knew of and not in Cokeville.

  I continued to explain that she was the teacher who led me out when the bomb went off. With tears in her eyes, she explained to me that there is no way she could have been there because she had died earlier in the 1980s. She also told me that she was extremely close to this aunt. I knew she was there and saved me. I didn’t see angels in white, but I saw and listened to who I needed to.8

  There are no distractions during the dream visit, which is always logical and sequential, and the message—usually one of comfort and reassurance, even when containing a warning—is clearly and unmistakably conveyed before the person, or spirit, quickly departs. The experiencer typically awakens with a profound sense of peace and love, and, as with NDEs or other out-of-body events, the memory of a dream visitation never fades.

  In 1997, I was eight months pregnant with my first and only child. I was thirty-eight years old and single. I had lost my mother and best friend fourteen years earlier. I visited with my gynecologist on a Monday, and all looked good and right on schedule to deliver the baby in four weeks.

  I went to bed that evening and woke up a little after midnight. I had had the most incredible dream! I dreamt that my mom and I were holding hands and walking on the beach, just as we had done many times when I was growing up. She looked angelic, peaceful, and beautiful. I couldn’t stop looking at her in my dream.

  She told me, “Ginger, you are going to have the baby today.” I told her, no, not today. The doctor just told me four more weeks. Mom looked at me again and repeated, “You are going to have the baby today.” As I lay there in bed, I could not stop thinking about how very real this dream was. In the years since she had passed, I had never had such a feeling of physical closeness with her.

  I went to use the bathroom and then back to bed. But I was unable to sleep since I was so excited about this dream. And that’s when my water broke! I did indeed have the baby that same day.

  There is no one in this world who could tell me this was only a dream. For me, I know it was a visitation from my mom.

  —GINGER, ALBUQUERQUE, NM

  I must admit that I would have been rather dismissive of this sort of phenomenon if I had not experienced it myself. As much as I try to mitigate it, and as much as it seems like I should easily embrace spiritual matters, it is in my nature to be a persistent “doubting Thomas.” I sympathize with people who assume these sorts of dream visitations are nothing more than an expression of the dreamer’s unconscious desire. Remarkably, however, the content of these visitations is rarely what the dreamer would hope for and the experiencer never doubts the reality of the visitation. In the case of those who are dying, out-of-body visitors and heavenly messages unquestionably ease the departing one’s fears. But overwhelmingly, their purpose is simple and profound: to reassure people at their most vulnerable time that they are deeply, personally, and everlastingly loved by God.

  NO PAIN IN PASSING ON

  I accept that I may not ever know the answers for all the “whys” of my son’s death, but I have absolute confidence that there continues to be incredible hope and beauty that has come from his life, as well as from his death.

  Many people are haunted by the assumption that someone who died violently or traumatically must have suffered greatly. It should be comforting to know that, based on my own experience with death and thousands of other NDE stories, I am confident that no one has pain at the time of his or her passing, regardless of how it appears to those of us still in the physical world. I believe the dying person’s spirit is often welcomed home by God’s messengers before the body has actually died. In fact, my own definition of death has actually changed as a result of my experience: Rather than it being the point at which a physical body has irrevocably and completely ceased to exhibit life, I define death as the point at which one’s spirit permanently leaves its physical body.

  THE SECOND LESSON THAT HEAVEN REVEALS

  Death is not to be feared, because death is not the end.

  It is a threshold where we leave our physical selves behind and walk whole into eternity.

  I had absolutely no fear or pain as I was drowning, as my legs were breaking, as I was being resuscitated, or as I was being transported for treatment. A similar lack of pain or fear has been shared with me by many, many other people who also returned from a state of near death. Despite my lack of discomfort as I was resuscitated and transported, I made sounds that other people assumed indicated agonizing pain. My companions later told me I had made “unearthly” noises and groaning. I may have been in emotional agony because I didn’t want to return to my body, but I was definitely not in physical agony.

  Even as Willie’s body was broken, I am certain he did not suffer, was greeted by God’s most gentle messengers, and had been reassured that his loved ones on Earth would be fine. I am also pretty sure that he would not have returned to Earth if given the choice.

  Even when a death is not sudden or traumatic, all suffering seems to disappear prior to physical death. This phenomenon is frequently reported by hospice nurses and family members, who routinely describe seeing expressions of calm, peace, and wonder that overcome people as they reach the end of life.

  SEEING THROUGH TO THE OTHER SIDE

  Which brings me to my biggest personal awakening as a trained practitioner in the health sciences after my NDE.

  Death is not to be feared because death is not the end.

  Of course, as a spinal surgeon, I’d been around death in my education, training, and practice for years, but I had yet to personally suffer the loss of a loved one. What’s more, I had never really considered my own death. Other than believing in a god, and thinking there was probably “something more” after death, I had no expectations or preconceptions about what death would be like.

  The experiences I am telling you about in this book changed all that, and not in a theoretical way. To realize that death is really not the end has radically changed my perception of what life means in very practical ways—how I feel about God, what I hope for, believe in, and expect—and I know this truth can do the same for you.

  Chapter 4

  SITTING NEXT TO JESUS

  “God loves us because of who God is, not because of who we are. That is grace.”

  —PHILIP YANCEY

  After an out-of-body experience, some have described the difficulty of reentering their body—a resistance or confusion that can be almost comical. But my reentry was simple and gentle. I merely sat down on top of my body, stretched out my legs, and lay backward into my torso. With that, I reunited with the physical world.

  I opened my eyes and looked into the faces of my friends. There, I not only saw exhilaration, surprise, and shock, but also fear and apprehension. Against all statistical odds, they had revived a dead person who was now significantly injured and lying on the bank of an inaccessible river in a remote part of a distant country.

  What now?

  To find medical attention, our group faced enormous obstacles. For starters, we had no cell phones, radios, or other means of communication—remember that all this occurred before cell phones and cell towers became so commonplace. And even if there had been a means of communication, there were no emergency service providers with whom to communicate. Although much has changed since then, at the time of these events, we were kayaking in a remote and undeveloped part of Chile that was far from any sort of hospital, and even farther from one that would provide ambulance service.

  And then there was my husband. The team didn’t know where he
was and had no way to contact him.

  Suddenly, circumstances changed. Two Chilean men materialized on the riverbank next to our group. Where had they come from? How did they know we were in trouble? There was no way to access this part of the river without a boat, and these men had no boat or any other means of transportation. Seemingly out of nowhere, they were just standing there!

  Without speaking or being spoken to, the two men walked over and helped lift my body onto a kayak. Using the kayak as a stretcher, they, along with my friends, began to knock down the thick bamboo to make a trail so they could move me up the steep hillside.

  After what seemed like endless bushwhacking, our group finally emerged onto a dirt road. As I was carried up and out of the foliage, we immediately encountered an ambulance parked on the side of the road. It seemed to be waiting for us.

  Just as the men on the riverbank had said nothing, the driver of the ambulance, who did not seem surprised to see us, asked no questions about the situation or about what happened. He simply and very calmly moved into action.

  Let me repeat this. With no communications and no hospitals anywhere nearby, two men “just happened” to appear on the riverbank to help us find a way out. They led my boat mates directly to an ambulance that “just happened” to be waiting with a driver at the exact time and place of our appearance on an infrequently traveled dirt road in a remote part of South America.

  And, just as astonishingly, my husband, Bill, and another kayaker were also there. Apparently, the American kayaker who had panicked and run during my resuscitation had unintentionally—and seemingly randomly—come upon the spot where my husband had been reading. Together, they drove on the road leading downriver, reaching the spot where we emerged onto the road at the very moment we emerged. Had they arrived at this point in the road a few minutes earlier, or later, they would have seen nothing and passed on by.