Talking to God (NDE Recovery Journal, part 1)
A Journal of NDE Recovery, Days 1-3
Day 1- Before NDE. A Saturday. A normal day, or so I think. But then I get sick. God walks me through taking my allergy medications and tells me not to go to sleep. I’m alone in the house, but soon I join my Lord at the edge of Heaven thanks to an allergic reaction. You can read my NDE story here.
Day 1- After. I am a complete chatterbox. I am telling anyone and everyone that there was a gold cloud, then a mostly-orange kaleidoscope gate of moving glass. I am quickly learning that most people are supportive, but several look at me funny. Yes, I sound cray-cray. Hmmm, a little bit like coming out of domestic abuse.
I email family to let them all know. I don’t want them to learn about it first on Facebook.
I get very little sleep. I find it hard to close my eyes and if I am honest, there is a little fear. I don’t really want to die again tonight. Hearing sirens a few times don’t help. But I pray for the people afflicted.
Day 2/Sunday- I am home recovering, and listen to church online. I can’t help the tears as Pastor Doug “goes overtime” and keeps talking about God’s impeccable timing. He also plays us a song about this world not being our home. It is Buddy Greene. Of course, I bawl, but also think “you have no idea, people.” I know a new definition of “awesome” and what it really means. Here is the song:
Today, I try to draw what I saw. I am not an artist. And when I think about drawing the heavenlies, I don’t feel like I have a right. But I don’t want to forget, ever. So, I must.
I talk to God a lot today. And I promise again to do the work He sent me back to do. (I am still, however, asking for some clarification). Songs run through my head and I note that they are mostly the older hymns that I grew up with. I know I need to post something to friends/family/prayer team on Facebook but can’t quite voice things yet. A few episodes of tears and a lot of awe today. I space out a lot but when I do, I am visualizing again what I saw. And at night I stare at the ceiling, reliving the moments and hearing Jesus. He and I are closer now. I pray for my kids and grands daily.
Day 3/Monday- Well, I can’t go to work yet so I spend until at least noon in worship. I start my real drawing after collecting some kaleidoscope illustrations on the internet as I listen to music. At first, I hesitate to sketch, to draw. And what if I get the colors wrong? But as I sketch and color, my strokes grow in confidence and my specific memories are quickly recalled. Nonetheless, it’s impossible to find all the colors that were there, even when I blend the colored pencils together. They may not exist here, I’m thinking.
One song by some gospel singers moves me to intense trembling about halfway through it as I feel the Holy Spirit in the room with me. It is “Break Every Chain” by Tasha Cobbs Leonard. You can listen/watch below.
The chorus of “Break every chain” is repeated over and over.
You see, the week before at church, Pastor Doug passed out a few links of plastic chains, asked us to break any chains around us and to bring our chain to the front, giving it to Jesus. I have chains for sure – but I stubbornly decide to stay in my seat. I later hang it from a fridge magnet– as my reminder that I’m not ready yet to give my chains up completely. Not all the way.
I send some songs to L, my childhood friend in the hospital who just experienced a second stroke. Turns out in the past she also had an NDE. Two. I ask if she has ever drawn what she saw. “Not yet” but she will work on writing it out and drawing it when out of the hospital. Great idea. A great reminder that we are here for a REASON is “You’ve Already Won” by Shane and Shane. It is here:
L and I keep each other company on text throughout the day.
I am still fighting reactions but at least they are under control, it seems. I am eating very carefully and slowly. But not fun to be reacting all the time.
Days 4-6 coming soon. Subscribe to get the notices in your email.
When I was in a college art class, I put special effort into one particular assignment. We were to create a large-scale three-part self-portrait series made with chalky pastels. The only catch was that it had to be completely abstract--no people, no nature scenes, nothing recognizable from reality. I pondered over the project for quite some time, then decided to create a past, present, and future representation of my life. The "past" image was a whole page of dark lines--some color, but primarily blacks and grays--swirling into the center like an overhead view of water swirling down a drain. It was chaotic and hopeless and busy. The second image, representing the present, was the same on the outside, but a six-inch circle at the center represented heaven. It was so challenging to recreate the colors of glory I had envisioned. Oranges and peaches and pinks and golds, with bits of aqua blue and a misty sea green. I blended the edges until it felt soft and impossibly bright and sunny. But even using words to describe it is not enough. It was the hope of glory in the midst of my current human grind. The third portrait, the "future", was that same color mix of glory, but it was the whole entire piece, edge-to-edge. It made my heart absolutely soar to look at it. My breathing grows deeper even now, just remembering it. Glory. Reading about your attempts at art made me remember. Thanks.
Awesome story! 🙏