Much of what I was told by the angel in the field had to do with my oldest son, Willie. Before I introduce you to Willie, I need to categorically state, once again, that I believe very young children clearly remember where they came from and are still quite connected to God’s world. I believe they easily recall the images, knowledge, and the love of the world they inhabited before their birth. I believe children may still be able to see angels, and many other people have written about this phenomenon. As young children become more engaged with the world, their memories fade and they begin their personal journey, often filled with detours and dead-ends, of finding their way back to God. Ultimately, they must not only find God, but must freely choose to accept God’s love and direction. God gave humans this ability to choose freely, which makes us ultimately responsible for our choices, our actions, and our lives.
Free choice requires that a person first understand that the choice he or she makes is fully theirs and that they are not being “made” to choose by something or someone other than themselves. It also requires that they choose between two or more alternatives, only one of which can be realized at a given time. For example, a person can choose to accept or reject a dinner invitation but cannot do both at the same time. As described by scholars of psychology, this inability to simultaneously choose more than one alternative creates internal emotional conflict. This internal conflict has been shown to lead to a person’s greater examination of their choices, with resulting increased perceived value and a stronger embrace of his or her final choice.
Each person can choose God or reject God but cannot choose to do both simultaneously. By freely choosing to believe God’s promises, a person’s faith may be more strongly embraced and, therefore, less likely to falter in times of struggle, sadness, or other such difficulties.
During my initial hospitalization after my accident in Chile, when I was speaking with Jesus in the sun-drenched field, I asked him why everyone on earth wasn’t given the opportunity to have the same experience that I was having. It seemed that if everyone shared this experience, hatred would disappear, we would be better stewards of the earth, eradicate hunger, no longer wage wars, and generally treat one another better on a daily basis. I no longer remember the angel’s exact words, but his amused response reiterated Jesus’ comments to Thomas: “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed” (John 20:29, NIV).
That is not to say that older children and adults have no memory. It seems that God sends us to earth with a deeply-rooted desire to seek meaning and spirituality, and until we satisfy this desire, we experience a void in our souls. Some people fill this void with God, some fill it with material possessions or other worldly desires, and some try not to feel this void by deadening their senses with drugs or alcohol.
It is with this understanding of my belief that I will tell this next part of my story. Willie and I had always been very close and I always felt a sense of deep spiritual connection with his soul. When he was young, perhaps four or five, he and I were chatting before bed. I do not recall what prompted the comment, but I said something about, “When you are eighteen …”
Willie looked startled and said, “But I’m not going to be eighteen.”
I asked him “What did you say?” with a somewhat joking tone. He looked back at me with serious intensity, curiosity, and disbelief, as he said, “You know. I’m never going to be eighteen. That’s the plan. You know that.” He said it as though I must be kidding with him. Surely, I must know the plan for his life.
This exchange was like a knife to my heart. I never forgot it and did not dismiss it. I cherished each subsequent day I had with this son, wondering which one would be his last.
In the years following my boating accident, I intermittently thought about my conversation with Jesus regarding Willie and contemplated the reasons for my return to earth. Given Willie’s long-ago stated certainty that he would not reach the age of eighteen, I assumed that the expectations regarding Willie had less to do with his protection and more to do with my expected role in helping my husband and my family after Willie’s death. Not wanting to burden others with these thoughts, I held them inside and did not tell anyone. It seemed to become a waiting game, but as the date of Willie’s eighteen birthday neared, I became filled with anticipatory grief.
I finally told my husband about my conversation with our son that had occurred so many years earlier. I’m not sure that he was glad to share my burden of worry, but it certainly made me feel just a little bit better to tell him about it.
On a Saturday night during the summer before Willie’s eighteenth birthday, I had a dream in which a boy, who I did not know, told me that he had “traded places with Willie.” I awoke confused and bewildered. I was quite startled later in the day to discover that the boy in my dream, a well-liked and well-respected young man in our community, had been killed the prior afternoon in a motor vehicle accident while on his way to a swim meet. I felt guilty and conflicted in my emotions. I was filled with sadness at another family’s loss, but relieved that perhaps our family would be spared.
A couple of months later, we received a phone call telling us of the tragic news that one of our dear friends died suddenly and unexpectedly while in a hunting camp. Four days later, we received a similar call telling us of the sudden and unexpected death of Alvis, our medical partner. They were both dear friends and bigger-than-life sorts of people who had been active in the Jackson Hole community for many years. We were devastated, the community was reeling, and our office was a place of mourning.
In our country, we no longer seem to have funerals; instead we have “celebrations of life.” But truly, the only person who ever celebrates is the one who died. Those who have died experience the joy of returning to the glory of God’s world, while the people left behind are sad, lonely, and rarely feel joyful about the occasion.
I am not superstitious, but events frequently occur in threes. Our community was mourning three deaths. Could this be another indication that Willie’s long ago prediction would come to nothing? This question was on my heart one month prior to his birthday, when Willie, Eliot, and Betsy left home to attend a ski camp in Sweden. The three of them drove to Salt Lake City where they spent the night before going to the airport early the following morning.
After they checked their bags, Eliot and Betsy stayed at the airport while Willie drove back to the hotel, where he had originally planned to leave the car parked. When he realized that he did not have enough time to return to the hotel and take the shuttle back to catch the flight, he decided to return to the parking lot at the airport and leave the car there. On his way back to the airport, he exited the freeway and stopped behind a few cars that were lined up at a red light on the exit ramp. His foot slipped off the brake, and the car moved forward several feet, gently striking the bumper of the car in front of him. He didn’t think this was a serious problem, but got out of his car anyway and walked up to the other car. The other driver had not moved his car to the side of the roadway, did not get out of his car, did not open his window, and would not look at Willie.
Confused by this driver’s behavior, Willie returned to his own car, pulled to the side of the road, and called me on his cell phone. Thinking that maybe the other driver had not seen Willie or even noticed that his car had been struck—although why else would he have stopped on the exit ramp? I suggested that Willie return to the other car and tap on the window to get the other driver’s attention. He did so, but got the same result.
He returned to his car and, again, called me. I suggested that Willie write our insurance information on a piece of paper to give to the other driver, walk to the car while keeping me on the phone, and offer to have me speak with the other driver. I listened from my end of the phone line as Willie walked to the car for the third time and asked the driver if he would speak with me. I heard silence followed by a piercing scream.
The other driver had produced a handgun and was
pointing it directly at Willie. Willie was frozen with fear, but fortunately his phone was frozen to his ear. As a result, I did not have to overcome his screaming to speak to him. I was able to speak directly into his brain: “Run, get in your car, turn the key in the ignition, drive away, do not stop!”
I certainly do not know if my son would have been shot had I not been on the phone with him when the other driver pointed his gun at Willie. What I do know, however, is that I am the only person who could have broken through to Willie’s brain and given him instructions that he would unquestioningly follow. I believe that on that day in Salt Lake City, my son reached a branch point in his life that led either to the death he had predicted so many years earlier or to his continued life. Despite the angel’s earlier words that I would need to be a rock of support for my family and community after Willie’s death, I felt like the plan for Willie had changed. Because I was alive, Willie stayed alive.
CHAPTER 25
BILL
“We know that all things
Work together for good
To those who love God.”
—Romans 8:28 (NKJV)
I was also sent back to earth to protect the health of my husband. Recall that two of our dear friends had recently died unexpectedly, and both of presumed heart attacks. They were both men about the same age as my husband: fifty-three years old. Like my husband, both men were physically fit and active and neither man smoked cigarettes, drank alcohol, or used recreational drugs. Neither “should” have died. Both had close and loving families as well as deep faith.
I did not want Bill to walk down the same road as these men, so I started pestering him to have an evaluation of his heart. Had I not returned to earth after my boating accident and been present to prod him, Bill doubts he would even have considered being evaluated. But I was there, so he was evaluated. He had a calcium-scoring CT scan in December 2007; a specialized test that specifically evaluates the amount of calcium present in the blood vessels of the heart. It is a non-invasive way of determining if coronary artery disease is present and, if so, to what degree.
The good news was that his heart looked perfect: no calcium, no coronary artery disease. When they performed the scan, however, the doctors had slightly misaligned the scanner. It was off-center by just a fraction and on the very, very edge of the resulting images the radiologist saw a small nodule in Bill’s lung tissue.
Hoping that it was evidence of an infection, Bill was placed on antibiotics. At home we racked our brains trying to think of any unusual exposure he may have had to asbestos, tuberculosis, or one of the other types of lung infections that were frequently seen in his birthplace of Southern California. A few days later, when a repeat CT scan of his lungs showed no change in the images, he underwent a CT-guided biopsy. The results showed a malignant tumor of the lung. We arranged for removal of this tumor, which was able to be done thoracoscopically. He was discharged from the hospital after only one day and he was gently skiing within a week. He has gone on to recover fully and his follow-up CT scans have confirmed the absence of any recurrence. His positive outcome is likely due to the very small size of the tumor at the time of its discovery.
Throughout our lives, we are conditioned to see each of the events of this sequence in isolation, and to think of them as “coincidental” or “lucky.” When you consider the entire sequence of events, however, it is difficult to discount the possibility of it being miraculous. Had our two good friends not died, I would not have insisted on an evaluation. Had I died on the Chilean river, Bill would likely not have had a heart evaluation. Based on the tumor type, had the scan not been misaligned, the mass would not have been found until it was larger, making it too late to hope for a cure. If the identified mass had been two millimeters smaller, it would not have been visible on the scan. Three millimeters larger, and it would have put Bill into a far more ominous statistical category, with a much worse prognosis. Without my return from heaven after my boating accident, our four children might have become orphans. At the time, I believed this was the protection of my family for which I had been sent back.
CHAPTER 26
CHAD
“For by grace you have been saved through faith,
And this is not your own doing;
It is the gift of God.”
—Ephesians 2:8 (NRS)
Chad Long was a delightful young man, but I did not know him well prior to my trip to Chile. His spiritual faith had been another explanation given to me for my return to earth, and I was told I would play an important role in his becoming a godly man. For years this was a source of great confusion for me, for I already believed Chad to be a godly man; He had been born into a Christian family, had married a Christian woman, and was never shy about discussing the role God played in his and his family’s life. Although I knew what I had been told by the angel, I really couldn’t imagine what I could contribute to Chad’s faith.
In preparing for the writing of this book, I spoke individually with each of the Longs. I asked them to recount, without my interruptions or comments, their recollections of the circumstances of my boating accident and to also recall their emotions. Chad gave me his account and, as he was describing the effect the events had on his life, he disclosed that for the several years leading up to my trip to Chile he had been “in a bad place.” He had not been the person he wanted to be, and felt that he had been suffering the age-old battle between God and Satan. Before going to Chile in the winter of 1999, he had been struggling in an unhealthy relationship and was lying to himself and others about the type of person he was becoming.
At the end of the Chilean boating season the year Bill and I went, Chad returned to Idaho with memories of my accident, but also re-entered the same unhealthy relationship and personal environment he had left. He wrestled with his faith, especially with the question of how to be a godly man. He said that when he allowed himself to contemplate the experiences and miracles related to my accident, he began to understand and believe that if a person can let go of the earthly logistics of life, live in faith, and give control to God, great things can happen and the supernatural can occur. Without God, our options are limited.
He points to my boating accident as a major turning point in his life; the point at which he became comfortable in his faith and comfortable in his relationship with God. It resulted in his consciously choosing to make the changes necessary to live a godly life.
Chad is now reconciled with God, is no longer afraid to alienate people by being open about his faith, and he relies on God to direct his life. Speaking with him about the impact of my accident on his life resolved my long-standing confusion about what the angel had told me, and I am profoundly grateful to have been an instrument through which God called to him.
CHAPTER 27
COMPULSION TO WRITE
“Whether you turn to the right or to the left,
Your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying,
‘This is the way; Walk in it.’ ”
—Isaiah 30:21 (NIV)
Life in our household is hectic and usually bustling with activity. We each have a variety of interests and endeavors, which makes our daily home life exciting, interesting, and satisfying, if not always predictable. By early 2009, I had lived up to what I believe were many of God’s expectations for my life and I felt content. My husband was healthy, our three younger kids were active, happy, and blossoming into wonderful young people, and Willie, our oldest child, was positively flourishing.
In the period after his eighteenth birthday, Willie led a joyful, albeit frenzied life. He had a terrific season of Nordic skiing, winning his seventh and eighth Wyoming State Championships (a record for which he was featured in Sports Illustrated “Faces in the Crowd”). He also expanded the non-profit environmental organization he created to promote local “no-idling” policies and enlisted the support of many local businesses for this cause. He strongly believed that encouraging people to make a conscious, environmentally-based choice about tu
rning off their car engines would prompt them to think about their other choices as well; even small choices can make a difference when added together. He believed that we are each the ripple of hope described in Robert Kennedy’s 1966 speech at the University of Capetown, South Africa:
“It is from numberless diverse acts of courage and belief that human history is shaped. Each time a man stands up for an ideal, or acts to improve the lot of others, or strikes out against injustice, he sends forth a tiny ripple of hope, and crossing each other from a million different centers of energy and daring those ripples build a current which can sweep down the mightiest walls of oppression and resistance.”
Willie was intrigued by the political process as a means for change and in 2008, when he was only eighteen years old, he was elected by members of our community to be a Wyoming delegate to the Democratic National Convention in Denver, Colorado. Willie’s sincerity, energy, and never-ending flow of ideas for living responsibly and making the world a better place for all was enormously contagious. He was passionate about making a difference in our world and inspired those around him to care about issues, to get involved, and to become better people in the process. It didn’t matter to him what a person’s “issue” was; he just wanted people to get involved and make a difference. I admired his passion and could not have been more delighted with the man Willie was becoming.
Despite my reasonable sense of contentment, I knew I had at least one big job left to do before I could truly rest contented in God’s presence: I was supposed to share my life stories and experiences by talking about them and writing about them. I knew that I had been given the many experiences of my life, my death, and my return so that I could use my experiences and observations to help others stop doubting and just believe—believe that spiritual life is more important than our physical one. Believe that God is present and at work in our lives and our world. Believe that we are each a beautiful part of an intricate tapestry of creation. Believe there is no such thing as “coincidence.”
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