Another Place – Part 1

Photo Credit: Pixabay

 

I’ve been asked to share the experiences I’ve had as they relate to dying, leaving my body, and coming back to life. This post is the first of several I’ll write to share them. There’s  lot to learn in this area, and I hope to dispel fear concerning death. My hope is that you come away with a greater heart-knowing of God’s extreme goodness, and the depths of His love for we humans, the crown of creation.

It was August 21st, 1983. I was just a few days shy of my 21st birthday. I was young, naïve, wounded, confused, ignorant, lost and broken. How did I get here?

My parents divorce a couple years earlier had devastated me. It was the final straw to break the proverbial camel’s back that had become so weighed down by so many things. I had driven off to San Diego at the age of 19 to get away from it all. I had my shiny new Mazda RX7 and I drove across the country thinking I’d run away from all these problems I couldn’t manage. I’d have a fresh start with a new job and a new location. Did I say I was naïve?

I grew up with religion and went to religious school from Kindergarten through 8th Grade at a Missouri Synod Lutheran school 2 miles from our farm. I had knowledge of God, I was afraid of God and had no idea that I had an enemy that wanted to steal, kill & destroy my life. That enemy had already been working hard in earlier years to take me out. The next few years, he would take it to a new level. Did I say I was ignorant?

San Diego was a disaster on all fronts. In fact, the road trip out there was dangerous. Our group of highway travelers was moving at close to 80 MPH the the Rocky Mountains when a huge chunk of tire came off of a semi in front of me and just about took me out. Part of it landed on the hood of the car, then bounced off of the windshield. Another smaller chunk had gone under the right front tire and caused minor damage.

There were other dangers, too, like ending up in Tijuana alone at 2 am after over-shooting San Diego on the freeway. There was the time spent living in east San Diego where we had at least one shooting per night. The paranoid woman I lived with tried to kill me. My job had to change for a variety of reasons. My car got repossessed. It was a mess. Did I say I was lost?

I got my car back with my dad’s help, and I headed home for Minnesota after 9 perilous months. I got my job back at the nursing home I’d worked at as a CNA (Certified Nursing Assistant.) I got involved in a relationship, and that was a mess, too.

One weekend, we were going up north for a softball tournament with friends. We drove over to another friend’s house where everyone was meeting. It was only 10 am, but everybody was drinking and getting high. When I saw my current boyfriend do a line of cocaine in front of me, I snapped, and walked out. Here we go: more drama, more dysfunction, and more mess. Did I say I was wounded?

Let me introduce Joe. We were friends and worked together at the nursing home. Although he was a little younger, we had some things in common. Mostly, I felt safe with him and he made me laugh. We agreed to go out on a date for a burger, and then to a midnight movie. Dawn of the Dead was playing. I did say I was ignorant, right?

This was one of THE worst decisions I’d ever made. Sitting through this movie was, for me, terrifying. Although I didn’t understand it at the time, demons were circling us in the theatre. Plans for the destruction of both of our lives had been made, and we didn’t have a clue.

After the movie, we came out to pouring rain, so heavy the wipers in the old Ford Fairlane couldn’t keep up. We left Eden Prairie on the way back to Waconia. Just outside Chaska, the enemy attempted to kill. Joe and I were headed west on Highway 212, and Stephen Pike was driving eastbound with his companion. Each vehicle was going about 50 MPH. Stephen was drunk, and did not see our vehicle when he turned left in front of us in his Galaxy 500. I screamed for God, Joe might have been yelling, too. Then everything went black.

I woke in excruciating pain. Joe was calling my name to see if I was okay. I couldn’t answer him. When the vehicles collided, I’d been sitting next to Joe. The car wasn’t equipped with seat belts, so there was nothing to hold me back – except the steering wheel. My body had flown up, and was caught on the steering wheel, collapsing both my lungs. While my body was kept from going through the windshield, it didn’t keep my head from going through. After the impact, after it all stopped, I was lying in a heap on the floor of the passenger side of the car.

I next remember paramedics coming to get me out of the car. I heard myself screaming in pain as they were moving me. Remember that I worked in healthcare. In addition to working as a CNA, I had spent time as a PCA (Personal Care Attendant) for some folks with permanent spinal injuries. Some of them functioned as quadriplegics, some as paraplegics.

As the paramedics were working on me, I began asking them if my neck was broken. My mindset at the time was this: If my neck is broken, I don’t want to live. I was going to make my choice to live based on their response, or so I thought.

They ignored my question at first. I kept asking until they asked me if I could wiggle my toes. Much to my surprise, I could do it. And as soon as I did it, it happened. I was gone.

The next thing I knew, I was standing about 50 feet from the scene of the crash. Everything was in black and white. There were flashing lights, police cars, the rescue squad, the State Patrol directing traffic. I couldn’t hear anything that was going on.

There was this man next to me, on my right, and he (or He) was dressed in white. I don’t know how long I stood there with him watching emergency personnel work on me. I heard him say, “It’s not your time. You have to go back.”

Whew. Even now, it takes my breath away. He showed up to save me.

I woke up 9 days later. Life was hard for a while after that. My face was full of glass. Modeling school was over. I was alone, really alone, and the only One who could help me was God. One day early in the recovery process, I was looking in the mirror, wondering how I would live without the exterior beauty that was mine before. Deep within me, I heard Him tell me it was time to go deeper than the surface for my value.

Part 2 to follow.
With Love from Portland,

Laurie

(Copyright Laurie Hilgers 2014)