I had been entertaining my friend’s daughter who had a brain tumor erupt and was labeled as a vegetable by the doctor at the children’s emergency hospital. But I knew she was lucid but couldn’t express herself due to paralysis. I knew this because I had taken a Community Rehabilitation class where I learned that people with total paralysis could communicate through one blink for yes and two blinks for no, so I was able to communicate with her despite her challenges.
My role was to convince my friend that her daughter was not a vegetable so she could start rehabilitating her daughter rather than delay it, but my friend said she wanted a sign, such as her daughter squeezing her finger when requested. So, I told the little girl to squeeze mommy’s finger when the time was right. (And later, she did, which brought her back into the K12 system.)
Meanwhile, I’d dance and sing like a fool to entertain this little girl, who would howl with laughter. That, I think, caught the attention of the little boy in the next room of children, separated from us by a long curtain, and he started asking me questions.
I remember that kind little boy sounding jaded at first as he began to engage me in conversation. I greatly cared for his welfare and befriended him with light, playful conversation. For instance, he called me stupid, and I agreed with him, asking him how he knew. He was likely going to die, so I encouraged him to survive, as my philosophy was that if I ever were on life support, I would never want the plug pulled.
I am trying to remember all the questions he asked. I just remember that I encouraged him to survive and, secondly, to believe in Jesus, even though I was an atheist at the time, as I wanted to do the right thing.
I’d periodically visit my friend’s daughter, and the kind little boy would ask me questions, and I’d try to answer them to the best of my limited spiritual knowledge. He would ask me who Jesus was, and, as I once had been a Christian, I told him about Jesus to the best of my ability.
The boy’s spirit was brilliant, and at one visit, he excitedly told me he saw Jesus. He gushed and was filled with joy. If I recall correctly, another man, whom I believe was a visitor, said the little boy knew things about him that the boy couldn’t have known. The little boy also talked about Jesus to the other dying children, as he was now on a spiritual path.
I don’t know if I recall all these details correctly, as this happened over twenty years ago, but his parents would visit him, and they eventually brought the Bible or pictures of Jesus. I can’t recall if they were Christians at that stage. Not much later, I was told that the little boy had died, and as he was dying, he cried out in joy, “Jesus!” I believe that Jesus appeared to take him into the afterlife. I’ve since heard similar stories of spiritual “visions” during passings, as depicted on Hospice Nurse Julie’s YouTube channel.
After the sweet little boy who had become my friend departed for heaven, his parents asked my friend what church I belonged to, as they were interested in attending. My friend told them I was a staunch atheist, much to their shock. And when asked why I did it, why I brought their boy to Jesus, my friend told them I just wanted to do the right thing.
Years later, although I was an atheist, I went to a church with a university friend. To my shock, the pastor told the story about me, the atheist, bringing the boy to Jesus because I wanted to do the right thing. He called it a tear-jerker. And then he said, “If that’s what an atheist can do, what more can we as Christians do?” And I said to my friend, “That’s my story!”
And then, a woman went up on stage and quietly raised her hands for an extended period in a state of ecstasy, summoning God’s love. I grew uncomfortable and spoke in the silent church, “What is she doing? What is this?” When the woman on stage stopped, she said the love she summoned was mighty, and she directed some of it to me and other vocal naysayers in the audience, and I always remembered this.
Sometimes, I hear that little boy talking to me, guiding me on the spiritual path. And I wonder if his parents are reading this now, as it’s a small world. If they are, he’s their guardian angel, bringing all of us to Jesus. He guides the sick and dying children to take comfort in Jesus, too, as he is the embodiment of joy in the afterlife, I’m sure. The love of God brings us all “home.”
I love the dear little boy and his family, and maybe the relaying of his story by church ministers was a big part of his reason for being, to enlighten all of us about the power of salvation. And I believe all faiths and all people contain a piece of the divine tapestry, according to a dear friend who had four near-death experiences. Without one of us, the beautiful weave would never materialize. We are all vital to that lovely, divine masterpiece; we are all interconnected. Not one soul is unworthy, as every soul is a piece of the divine.
That little boy is a divine being of light, continuing his eternal development in the afterlife! I needed to write that last sentence to encourage his continual spiritual growth. That’s because I genuinely believe the little boy, now an angel for all the children who die young, is reading this.
