I had a hard time staying alive between the ages of 13-35. First, I had encephalitis with very high temperatures for days with sleeping sickness. Then at age 18, I started forming blood clots in my legs and abdomen. There were many episodes of these clots breaking loose and travelling into my heart, landing in my lungs. At age 35, too many of these small clots had changed the landscape of my lungs. A surgeon and a cardiologist stood at my bedside and explained my chances of living beyond this point were virtually nil unless they used a new surgical procedure wherein they would screen off my vena cava, that large blood vessel that carries the blood from the lower part of my body to the heart and then to my lungs. Since this type of surgery was unique and innovative to the medical field, little hope was offered for a good outcome.

I was told I may die during or after the surgery. Or, if I survived my legs could turn blue and large like old fashion piano legs. As a mother of three teenage sons, ages 13, 15 and 17, I decided the surgery was my only option. For years, my blood had been thinned by taking Coumadin, or Heparin to control clotting episodes. Now, I had three days to wait for my blood to be thick enough for surgery. The question was would I live three more days.

My Christian faith was strong. I knew if I died heaven would be my next destination. Strangely, what I feared was being placed in a grave. Through my years of dealing with pulmonary emboli (clots in lungs) I had prayed, “God, please don’t let me die during the winter.” I knew the climate where we lived would mean being buried in a cold grave, topped with snow.

During the three days of waiting for the surgery, I had a vision. I saw a dark, heavy-tempered gate with the word “DEATH” at its top. I was afraid, trembling in my bed. But, then I could suddenly see the opposite side of that gate. It was a great and glorious pearl from heaven’s side. A “little girl” danced up to the opening and said, “Just step across!” She looked with a great smile and beckoned me, saying, “It is just one step.” Although she coached me several times, I could not take that step. But, this vision ended my fear of the grave. I realized I was not my body and that I will have only to move through the gate when death came.

I did survive the life-saving surgery and recovered. One day while driving my car, I suddenly saw a part of that vision, once again, and immediately realized something about the little girl. It was as if I was being divinely told, “That is your daughter”—and I instantly knew that this is true. Years earlier, I had a miscarriage between my first and second sons. Nearly three decades had passed when my heart prompted me to receive the truth:  The vision had allowed the little girl I wanted, yet could not hold in my womb, to minister to me that night when I was so close to death.

From then on, I knew even more surely there is a heaven—and this precious little girl is waiting for me to “cross over.”

The beautiful part is that I was given many more years, as the surgery was highly successful. I lived to raise my family and to enjoy a long, loving relationship with my dear husband, Gary Smith.

I am now getting close to the time when people normally die. I know death is coming, yet I have no fear at all. It’s like knowing a trip is around the corner. However, on this trip I cannot take anything with me, not even the costly crowns on my teeth. So, I pray to do all possible to become all that God knew I could be when He first saw me conceived. I also believe none of us get to be entirely finished—totally ready to meet our Maker. We have flawed natures, which most likely we will be trying to conquer when we draw our last breath.

The wonderful news is that the Lord Jesus has forgiven our sins. Upon repentance of them, we are washed to the core—cleansed, ready for eternity.

“For God has not destined us for wrath, but to obtain salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ,  who died for us so that whether we are awake or asleep we might live with him” (1 Thessalonians 5:9-11).

Joy Le Page Smith is a Board certified clinical chaplain, mental health counselor and author of four books.  Comment below, if you wish.