Grandma waved her arm and the ground opened before us. I looked and saw a person lying on a hospital bed surrounded by doctors and nurses. The person’s face was bandaged.

"You will never be the same, RaNelle," Grandma said. "Your face will be altered and your body filled with pain. When you go back, you will have years of rehabilitation . . ."

"When I go back?" I looked at her. "You expect me to go back?"  Sudden understanding came, and I looked at the person on the bed. The arms were spread wide, and both arms and hands had been sliced in several places to allow the fluids to drain into plastic bags.

"Is that me?" I was horrified.

"Yes, RaNelle, it is you. You will be badly scarred . . ."

I became frantic.  "Grandma, I’m not going back."

"Your children need you, RaNelle."

"No, no they don’t. They’re better off with someone else. I can’t give them what they need."

"It’s not just your children, RaNelle. You have things to do - things that aren’t finished yet."

"No, I’m better off here. I don’t want to go through all that." I pointed to my body. "I refuse. I want to stay here."

I sensed my grandmother’s awareness that time was growing short. "You must go," she said. "Your mission isn’t complete."

"No, I’m not returning to that body!  I’m not going back."

In response, my grandmother swept out her arm and commanded: "Look!"

A rift opened in the space before us, and I saw a young man walking toward us.  At first he didn’t seem to understand why he was there. Then he saw me and looked stunned.

"Why are you here?" he said almost in disbelief. As I remained silent, his disbelief changed to grief, and he began crying. I felt his grief, his sadness, and I too began crying.

"What’s that matter?" I asked. "Why are you crying?" I put my arms around him, trying to comfort him.

"Why are you here?" he repeated.

Then I understood that my refusal to go back to earth was causing his sadness. I belonged on earth for him, I understood, and I immediately felt guilt for my selfishness.

His name was Nathaniel, and he hadn’t been born on earth yet. He said that if I didn’t go back, his own mission would be hindered. Then he showed me his mission, and I saw that I was to open doors for him, to help him, to encourage him.

"I will complete as much of my mission as I can," he said, "but I will never fulfill it without you. I need you."

I thought my heart would break. I was a part of his puzzle, and I was hurting him and everyone he would help by refusing to go back to earth. I felt a great love for this young man, and I wanted to help him in every way I could.

"Oh, Nathaniel," I said, "I swear to you that I will help you. I will go back, and I promise that I will do everything I can to do my part. I will open those doors for you. I will protect and encourage you. I will give you everything I have. Nathaniel, you will complete your mission. I love you."

His grief was replaced with gratitude. His face lit up, and I saw the great spirit he was.  He was crying now with gratitude and joy.

"Thank you," he said. "Oh, I love you."

My grandmother took my hand and drew me away. Nathaniel watched me leave, still smiling, and I distinctly heard him say, "I love you, Mom."

My spirit was thrilled, but I couldn’t respond to him, as things began happening very quickly. "RaNelle," Grandmother said, "there is one more thing I need to say to you. Tell everybody that the key is love."

"The key is love," she repeated.

"The key is love," she said a third time.

Then she let go of my hand, and the word love reverberated in my mind as I left her and fell into a deep blackness. I was crying as I left the world of light and glory and love.

The last thing I saw was her outstretched hand.

(Her near-death experience ends here as she returns to her burned body in the hospital. About seven years later, she gave birth to a son whom she gave the name Nathaniel.)

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