Seven days through Heaven and back
He was 427 pounds on an operating table rated for 500. What was meant to be a routine surgery became septic shock, kidney failure, and a seven-day coma. What he remembers from those seven days is not silence.
He remembers an ocean, and the figures moving above him. He remembers an office he had never seen but somehow knew was his own. A white hallway. A rotunda lined with images of a life he had not yet lived. Double doors that opened on their own, into a room without walls — and beyond it, a valley, a mountain range, and the purest air he had ever drawn into his lungs.
He remembers a voice that did not pass through his ears but through his soul. He remembers four grandparents, each arriving in turn. And he remembers a throne — and the One who walked out of the light toward him, arms open, and never once turned His back.
This is the story of those seven days, and the seven years since spent proving they were real.