Deliverance

I did not know much about life itself until the day of my death. That day was just a few days shy of my 40th. Life was pleasant; I would never have thought I would die. Ironically enough, I recalled that just that morning I had resolved something about the meaning of death, but in the abstract rather than as anything personally affecting my own life.

I began that day as every other—in a warm bath. Something about warm water brings out the philosopher in me, and today I was contemplating the purpose of toes—and why five? Why not four or six? Not wanting to think too hard (It was, after all, my day to relax,) I abandoned the thought to simply relish the feeling of warm water swishing between my toes. I shifted positions just a little and lay back listening to the rhythmic pounding of the ever-present stereo. Running my fingers along the warm, smooth walls of my tub, I closed my eyes to the dim crimson glow of twilight about the room and fell into a light sleep.

The strange sensation of falling startled me awake. I lay still for a moment trying to identify the cause of the motion. The movement evolved into that of a swaying hammock being rocked by the wind. How odd. Realizing that I was fully awake and no longer moving, I surrendered to logic and concluded that it was just a dream. Oh well. I was awake now. Next order of business…?

I had plans for the day, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember them. It was too hard to concentrate on anything because of the headache. Its vice-grip tightened and drove away all sensible thought. I had never had a headache like that before. Pressure and pain! I wondered if it was a migraine. Lifting my hand to head, I tried to rub my forehead and calm myself. The pressure subsided for a few minutes before it surged again. Finally, it seemed to ebb away. As my head cleared, my mind wandered through the garden of my life. The sweet fragrance of blossoming thoughts that I have picked and examined acted as a balm of liquid peace around me. I enjoy thinking, especially about metaphorical life—must thoughts wither as flowers do? What is the soil in which a thought is rooted? Do thoughts photosynthesize, grow and reproduce? Do they seed other thoughts like themselves or can they birth feelings too? Where do I fit in the cycle of life? Am I soil? Or sun? Or the essence of thought-flower itself? There are so many questions I had yet to answer in my life. Even so, I realized how much I had already grown.

Suddenly, there were rushing waves of pain! Throbbing, thumping as if some invisible bass player were striking his rhythm against my eardrum. Stay calm. The headache went away last time. Relax. Try to take your mind off of it. Think. Think… of better days… comfortable, quiet days. I remember… the first day I heard the soft, sweet song from another world. I didn’t understand the words. The were foreign yet somehow familiar …hopeful… giving me assurance that all was well in the world. A feminine lilting song from heaven. I wondered—Is there really a heaven? What would it be like? I sensed that, yes, there would be a time when consciousness would lie floating in a tranquil infinity. As I lay there contemplating this place of perfect peace and harmony, I decided that if there were a heaven, I’d want to go there. Just not today.

I had only a few moments of rest before the onset of a third headache. Something must be terribly wrong with me. Tightness and pressure squeezed thoughts from my head like a juicer extracting orange juice and pulp. Is this what a brain aneurysm feels like? Thoughts of death terrified then comforted me. Death, fear of the unknown… but anything is better than this pain. “God, grant me deliverance from this horrific torment!” I couldn’t bring myself to control my thoughts! In the last moment before I passed out, I realized I was going to die. Not someday, but today.

The pain seemed present but somehow deep in my subconscious mind. Or, is it me lost in my sub-consciousness and the pain remains in my conscious thought? Either way, we—the pain and I—were separated by some barrier. Was this the mercy of God or some psychological phenomenon? It did not matter; I was happy for the relief. There was blackness all around me. Words echoed in my head, “the valley of the shadow of death,” but I didn’t know where they came from or what they meant.

Ahead of me, I saw a parting of the darkness. It was as if the blackness of space were being stretched thinner and thinner until it tears slightly to allow a pinhole of light to penetrate. It flickers larger—or closer—I can’t tell which, until it glows like a candle on the night of a new moon. The light beckons me closer almost as if the beam was an entity calling me forth. In a moment of fear, I shrink from the urge to move forward. I scream, “I don’t was to die!” but I cannot resist as I am both pushed from behind and pulled toward the ever-increasing gleaming shaft of light. Its twinkle calms me like the wink and smile from a trusted friend. A “glimmer of hope,” I chuckle at my pun. I feel light-hearted, even giddy. It could be that the pressure has cut off the oxygen to my brain and this is merely a physical response to a stimulus. But if my thinking is impaired, how did I just think that? Maybe all that science nonsense is just a way to explain a supernatural world in natural terms. It is ironic that scientists think just the opposite—that God is a way to explain the natural world in supernatural terms. I may be about to find out, or if not, it never really mattered. Either way, there is no turning back now, but I don’t care. I want to see what is on the other side of death. I relax and allow myself to be carried along on waves rippling into my destiny. I float on buoyant peace for a time.

Just when I thought I could float for eternity, as I had once lay born up in my daily bath, I feel the gradual receding of my buoyant waters, and all at once, a great outflow as if someone had pulled a plug on my tub. Is this the beginning of my soul leaving my body? I am not sure what is happening to me, but in an instant, I realize that I must choose between terror and trust. I feel as if I know what lies ahead, so I try to focus on the impression itself. I lay confused at the new sensation of being tightly wrapped in a wet blanket. It clings to my body and blocks my sight. I am anxious and a little afraid, but comforted by some anticipation of new things to feel, ponder, and experience. What if existence in heaven is really just life in another form? Is death just a doorway to new life? I feel excitement at the possibilities that await me in the world ahead. The discomfort seems minimal now, a suppressed, far-away impression numbed by distance. I don’t know if I have become accustomed to it, or if it has left, or if it simply is no longer significant. It is unimportant now. I feel… happy…

The onset of one last headache propels me forward into the unknown.

“5:51 am. It’s a boy.”

Some outside entity wraps me tightly and lifts me to the bosom of God herself. I hear the familiar rhythm of the music I heard all my former life, the heartbeat of God. This must be heaven.