“How did I get back here?” I wondered, terrified and confused. “I was just in Heaven.”
Medical equipment clicked away. A tube was stuck into my mouth, an IV was jabbed into my swollen and bruised arm. The room spun around me. I heard a voice calling my name.
“Tommy,” said a nurse in a very calm voice, “you’ve been in an accident. You’re unable to breathe on your own because your lung has collapsed. You’re on a respirator now. You’ve been in a coma for quite a while. Try not to move too much. You need to be still and let your body heal. You can’t walk.”
I was so disoriented. There was so much pain. The whole time I was in Heaven, I felt no pain at all. Now my chest hurt so badly that I couldn’t even take a full breath. I looked down at my arms. They were so swollen that I couldn’t see my fingers. I couldn’t move my shoulders and neck. My legs ached, and I was cold all over. I was in a state of total fear.
The nurse had mentioned an accident. What accident? I didn’t remember any accident. I didn’t even know how I got here. Wasn’t I just in Heaven? Had it all been a dream? It felt so real.
Deep down, something inside me confirmed that it was all real. But I wished I was back in Heaven. I thought I was going to stay there forever.
I am so disappointed!
I never dreamed I’d be back in my body. In Heaven, there was no pain, discomfort, or suffering. But in that hospital bed, I was enduring horrible pain. It felt new and foreign to me. Profoundly disappointed, I was overcome with an intense longing to be back with Jesus. My sadness at being back on Earth was just as painful as my broken body. I drifted off to sleep, hoping I’d be pulled back into the light tunnel again.
That wasn’t to be.
The next day, the tube was taken out of my mouth to see if I could breathe on my own. My vocal cords and throat were so raw that I couldn’t speak. Doctors and nurses advised me to not speak. That was okay by me. I’d already decided to keep what happened in Heaven to myself. I felt too vulnerable and confused to articulate what I had learned and experienced; it was all so much to process. Who would believe me, anyway?
My brother was at my bedside. Should I tell him I had seen Dad and Grandma? He’d probably think I’d had a crazy dream or was delusional because of all the drugs that had been pumping through my system. Although our family is Roman Catholic and we always attend church, I decided this news would be a stretch. I kept quiet.
My brother told me what happened: “You were run over by a car traveling approximately 40 miles an hour.”
I nodded in understanding.
“You died twice last week from heart failure and had to be shocked back to life. Your head was twice its normal size, but it’s much less swollen now.”
To me, it felt as big as a watermelon.
My brother rattled off my numerous injuries. Not only were my lungs bad, but I had nine fractured ribs, seven herniated disks, six fractured vertebrae, a fractured pelvis, a fractured skull, and a fractured hip. I got exhausted hearing all this. No wonder I was in agony. I drifted back to sleep, hoping to get back to Heaven and Jesus.
The more I heard about what had happened to me, I was surprised that I was alive at all, even in my banged-up condition. I knew inside that this was the point in my life at which I had to decide to change some things. My heart, mind, and spirit longed to get back to the place where there is no fear.
As more days in the hospital passed, the pain only got worse. All I wanted to do was sleep to keep the pain level down. I had suffered from asthma before the accident, and now it was aggravated by the collapsed lung. Breathing was hard.
I grew worried about the long-term consequences of the accident. Would I ever work again? Would I ever walk again? I prayed to Jesus to help me overcome my worries about becoming a burden to anyone. I asked him to help me overcome my disabilities, to take the pain out of my arms so that I could feed myself and eat and drink to regain strength, and to keep me strong against my enemy, which is fear. Mostly, I asked Jesus to love me here, like He did all the time we were together in Heaven.
Before falling asleep again, I thought more about all that Jesus had taught me while I was in Heaven. I understood that I must begin applying the lessons I learned.
After I woke up, I could swallow and felt a real improvement in my throat. It wasn’t as raw, so I hoped I could eat some real food. My brother snuck me a sandwich. I started to eat, but it got stuck in my throat and I vomited. I tried again the next day, and that time I could keep the food down.
I was still in a lot of pain, but I managed to pray every single day.
I still couldn’t stand up, so I asked Jesus to help me walk again. The lower back pain radiated down both my legs and was excruciating. The drugs didn’t relieve this pain, and I asked the nurse to stop giving me morphine. I would rather tough it out than have this continual brain fog. I think the morphine was making me confused. It was hard to remember anything. I had absolutely no memory of the accident or being run over. The few months before the accident were gone, too. I didn’t remember my old life.
My brain function and mental reasoning were definitely off. People were visiting me, but I forgot that they came and their names escaped me.
But nonetheless, I slowly began to make progress.
Finally, after being in the hospital for several weeks, I was told that I could go home. I couldn’t wait to get some fresh air and see the sky again. I was excited to leave but also a bit scared. I hoped I’d be able to take care of myself.
The nurse said that she’d get me a wheelchair on the day of my departure, but I stubbornly insisted on leaving with a walker instead. My legs were still weak, and my muscles, inflamed. I was determined to make it on my own steam, though. I dragged my right shoulder against the hallway wall for support, to keep myself standing upright. As I moved forward, my left leg went out from under me. Hospital staffers rescued me, firmly yet gently seating me in the wheelchair. I tried the walker again, resting every 20 feet or so to prevent another fall. My gait was off due to the multiple unhealed fractures. I was afraid that if I got into that wheelchair, I might never get out of it. I had to learn to walk again. I had to!
I entered my apartment, and it felt really strange, almost foreign. I collapsed into my chair. I was so tired and depressed. All my time with Jesus and His beautiful teachings were flying out the window. I was afraid that this terrible pain would last indefinitely.
I didn’t know if I’d be able to work again. Maybe never! How would I take care of my financial responsibilities? How would I pay for my rent, phone, insurance, medicine, and food? It was much easier being in Heaven with no fears and worries about this earthly stuff.
Time passed but the pain did not. I felt tired, mentally fatigued. Going to my multiple doctors’ appointments gave me something to do, but it was an ordeal getting there and back home. Someone had to take me because I couldn’t drive. I felt like a burden, despite reassurances from friends and family that I was not.
It would be 18 months before I could walk without a walker or cane. My legs would continue to feel weak for a long time after that. Gradually, I was able to feed myself. Headaches persisted for two years as a result of my skull being fractured.
To help with the pain, I began seeing a chiropractor daily, except on Sundays. Chiropractic work is a great way to get the body’s energy flowing because it removes blockages from the chakras. During my sessions, I recalled some of what Jesus taught me about energy and vibrations. I concluded that, to recover, I would have to push my physical body and get more health conscious. Waiting to recover was not the answer. I would have to fight my way back to health with God’s help. I wanted to stimulate my Vital Force to get healing to where there was inflammation in my body. I tried acupuncture to move energy to the meridians. Treatments twice a week really helped me.
I started to go to church more often in order to recapture the divine energy I felt in Heaven. The peace and tranquility in church were soothing and serene and helped me let go of fear.
I still indulged in little pity parties from time to time, but my faith in God and in what is truly important crystallized because of my experience. I drew on that faith now that I was back, though in a broken body.
One day during my recovery, I woke up thinking about a place from my childhood: Our Lady of Lourdes Grotto at St. Lucy’s Catholic Church, tucked deep within the Bronx. It is a shrine to the Virgin Mary, a replica of Our Lady of Lourdes in France, where many believe miracles have unfolded. Maybe my guardian angel whispered “the Bronx grotto” to me while I was sleeping. All I know is that I woke up one morning and had to visit it.
Since 1939, people from around the world have gone there to pray for healing from cancer and other scary diseases or for the rescue of loved ones from their deathbeds. There’s a stream that runs beneath the statue of the Virgin Mary. Its coveted water originally came from a natural spring, but the spring dried up long ago, forcing the shrine to switch to tap water blessed by priests. People still believe it performs miracles, and they douse their heads in the water, rinse their faces, nudge their children and dogs under the flow, and fill baby bottles, flasks, water and juice bottles, and empty gallon milk jugs with water they take home to bless family, houses, and even cars.
When I was a kid, my parents regularly took me to the grotto. I was born virtually blind in one eye, and they hoped that I might receive miraculous healing for my impaired eyesight. I loved going there. It was a special place that filled me with faith, and I was always inspired when I visited.
Now, as an adult in poor physical health, I knew I had to go back. My hope was that the grotto would bring back the feeling I had when I was with Jesus. So I went to visit His mother, Mary.
I started going once a week for an hour. I had to be driven, so I couldn’t just go anytime I wanted. I would watch as the people lined up, patiently waiting their turn to fill their containers with the blessed water. Often, people dressed in full business attire would come up the steps and dunk themselves under the water, letting it pour over their heads and their clothes until they were completely soaked. They would emerge wet and filled with joy, shouting out their thanks to Heaven.
The grotto has the highest vibration of any place I’ve experienced since returning from Heaven. The people praying there feel it, too. The air is filled with hope and possibility. Praying there week after week lifted my sadness at being back in my physical body. I felt connected again to all that was holy. I was filled with true faith once more, and finally, I was truly happy to be alive!
During one of my visits, a tiny older woman wearing a slightly tattered coat approached me and held out her right hand. “Could you be so kind as to give me two dollars? I’d like to buy a candle to light so I can say a prayer to the Virgin Mother.”
I pressed two one-dollar bills into her hand, and she shuffled away.
A week or so later, I returned to the grotto to pray. An afternoon shower dampened the stone steps in places. As I was trying to sidestep some puddles, that same woman came up to me again.
“I feel guilty,” she began, her head hung low. “That two dollars you gave me to buy a candle? Well, I used the money to buy a slice of pizza and a soda.”
I smiled and touched her on the shoulder. “You must have been hungry, and the money and food were answers to your prayers.”
I was trying to remember all my heavenly teachings, and I thought that my response is what Jesus would have wanted me to tell her.
“Thank you, sir!” Her eyes filled with tears.
We stood there together for a few moments, our heads bowed in prayer, and I noticed that my left foot was in one of the puddles. As I moved my foot out of it, the woman pointed down and screamed: “Look down!”
There, imprinted on the stone floor, was the image of a crucifix. It was unmistakable, clear as day. The cross was a Celtic cross, a magnificent image that lasted for a few minutes before evaporating from view. Together, gasping in amazement, we went inside to the interior chapel and fell to our knees in prayer. We both knew we had just witnessed a miracle.
It wasn’t long before I was given a second miracle at the very same site. After seeing the cross imprinted on the stone floor, I found ways to go back to the grotto each week to pray. On one particular day, I arrived at dusk. I was waiting for someone to come and lock up the shrine but nobody came, so I continued my devotions. As I finished my prayers, I looked up and saw a golden light in front of me that soon turned into an image of a woman resembling Mother Mary. As I stared, my attention riveted, I could make out a baby in her arms. There were four other men standing with her.
Bathed in golden light, Mother Mary began to talk to me telepathically as Jesus did in Heaven. She told me that the baby was Jesus; the man beside her was her husband, Joseph; and behind him were the three wise men who came to honor Jesus at His birth. Mother Mary then looked up and pointed to the sky. I raised my eyes to the sky and saw a brilliant star appear. This was the Star of Bethlehem, she told me, the same star that appeared the night that Jesus was born. The beautiful star was unlike any I have ever seen before or since. I could clearly make out 18 distinct spokes of brilliant light emanating from its center. It was breathtakingly beautiful, just like Mother Mary herself.
I couldn’t believe my eyes!
I was flooded with warmth, and I began to sob. My heart filled up with the same love and peace that I felt when I was in Heaven. We were there together for what seemed like hours.
Then, in an instant, I felt something change inside me, as if something was being released. It was the pain leaving my body! For the first time since I had returned from Heaven, I felt no pain, anywhere.
I sobbed even harder. I was experiencing a miracle. As the vision of Mother Mary faded, I collapsed on a bench, feeling completely filled with Divine Unconditional Love.