This story, THE CHOICE, is a true story of one individual who was ushered into the presence of Our Lord and given forgiveness, love and a glimpse of future wonder of life after death. The artists who drew the pictures experienced difficulty in the Angel’s Wings, and the concept of the multitude of Angels. The Angel’s Wings could best be described as brilliant colored scrolls, two of which on each flowing wing that was silken and flowed like satin or an American Flag or any flag in a breeze. The wing rolled and the two scrolls were in the middle of each wing. I suppose that we’re not supposed to be able to duplicate the Heavenly Host on this earth or see the faces of the Angels or the arisen face of Our Lord. Both artists used their many artistic skills to try to capture the essence of what I saw. I hope all who see the drawings wil1 realize the magnificence of Heaven and the wonder of the colors, the woods, the meadows and the Love of Our Lord for us.

I wish to acknowledge Gary Petticord and Gail Hines as the two artists who contributed the sketches and thank them for a job well done. I also wish to acknowledge David Colbert who condensed THE CHOICE and worked with me on the format and order of the dream as it occurred. I also wish to acknowledge Alice Stromberg who typed, edited, corrected and put the various revisions into a workable and readable text.

For eight weeks this dream was given to me for Love and Encouragement to continue keeping on in what Our Lord wanted me to do. I pray in my heart that all may be saved.

by

Richard M. Hemphill

It was 2:30 a.m. on a July morning in 1988 and I thought I was dying. While my wife, Gladys, was calling 911, I lay in bed. My heart was beating 200 times each minute and my chest felt terribly tight. As I lay there sweating, my breath came in short gasps. My heartbeat pounded in my ears and throbbed in my lower jaw. I even saw my chest bounce. Gladys was frantic. I kept telling her to be calm – that everything was okay, but I didn’t feel okay. I was scared. Each minute seemed to lengthen and I became even more uncomfortable. Forty-five minutes passed. Despite the early hour, I was wide awake. Finally, we heard sirens approaching down the lane. Lights flashed as Gladys ran downstairs to open the front door. Within seconds, three paramedics entered my room, set up an intravenous solution, and began communicating with a physician at the local hospital. Soon afterward I was carried downstairs to the waiting ambulance. As concerned as I was, I still took stock of my predicament. I was being taken from my home without clothing, shoes, or even identification. I had nothing. My life was controlled by the paramedic team and by the hospital. All introspection aside, my next thought was, "Please let my heart slow down." After all, let’s not lose sight of why the paramedics happened to drop by. When we entered the ambulance my heartbeat had risen to 210 beats per minute. I tried to control my breathing rhythm as they monitored my progress. We quickly arrived at the hospital, where I was rushed to intensive care. The crisp smell of fresh sheets and the nurse’s calm smile reassured me. Within three hours, my heart had stabilized. By 11:00 a.m. my heart rate was normal. Before noon, I was leaving the hospital to return to work. Gladys brought my clothing and shoes to the office. We discussed the matter of what I was to do. Right then we decided to put our trust in the Lord. I realized how limited my vision was. Only God knows when my time here is to end. Until then, the best I can do is to try to please Him. This first episode of the fast heartbeat was foreshadowing. Other episodes occurred in increasingly short intervals. If I had a difficult day in the office, my heart would beat rapidly for at least one to two hours after I finished. I tried everything to make it better until the last episode in July when our son, David, and Gladys were home. One evening I returned from work. After supper, David and I went out and attached the plow to our farm tractor. I plowed six acres of ground for a garden. When I finished plowing, I changed implements to till the soil and grade it. My heart once again began beating very quickly. Until this time, I had found that lying flat on the floor and totally relaxing slowed my heart rate within 30 minutes. This time, however, my heart continued accelerating. I fully expected to leave this world. Gladys called 911 and away I went again to spend the night in the hospital. My cardiologist suggested a thallium stress test to see what was causing the episodes. This test is one of the most frightening things I’ve encountered. Prior to the thallium stress test, the patient signs a waiver acknowledging that the test may result in his death. This, of course, is a great confidence builder as one faces the unknown. No eating is allowed the night before the test. Early the next morning, the testee disrobes and, if necessary, is shaved before electrodes are attached to his chest. Meanwhile, an I.V. is inserted into his arm. When everything is in place, he begins walking on a treadmill until his heart rate is at least 110 beats per minute, At that time, thallium is injected into his arm and he lays on a table beneath a camera for 25-30 minutes while pictures of his heart are taken. The worst part of the test is the time spent on the table. While the half-hour provides a quiet time for contemplation, one can easily become depressed by dwelling on the negatives. The "what if’s" and bridges built to hypothetical destinations are particularly troubling. I decided to fight that tendency. Instead, I asked the Lord to be with me and to allow me to accept what was happening. Then I just gave it up. I couldn’t control it anyway, so I put it all in His hands. I did, however, ask Him to guide the cardiologists in finding out what was wrong and to give them the wisdom to plot the correct path for me. Letting go can be so difficult. The situations we give up affect others as well as ourselves. In my case, I was self-employed. When I didn’t work, the money stopped coming in and we struggled. I just had to face the fact that this was beyond my control. As I lay on the camera table, I asked the Lord to keep away the negative thoughts and to guide me, no matter what happened. When that prayer was complete, I recited prayers I had learned as a child and some of my favorite Bible verses. Finally, I prayed for everyone I could think of. Soon, by George, the test was over. Thankfully, I was able to leave for two hours before returning for the final camera session. Once again, I used the time to stay close to God. Despite everything, I begrudged the time the test took from my day and the problems I had with my heart. But part of me realized I couldn’t change things and should accept them and do the best with the heart that I had left. As I lay on the table following the camera session, our cardiologist read the films and described to me what he saw. Then we reached the bottom line: I needed open heart surgery to bypass the restrictions. Gladys and I met with the doctor to discuss (calmly, on the outside) my fate. We asked which hospital to select, how long the procedure would take, how soon it was necessary, what my chances of survival were, and what alternatives were available. We spent thirty minutes to discuss a lifetime. On July 24, 1988, the doctor called the heart surgeon to explain the situation. The heart surgeon called my son, a cardiologist in Sacramento, California. Then we scheduled the hospital appointment for August 8, 1988. Then it struck me. My God, the surgery was less than three weeks away. Some wonderful things occurred during the tension, fear, and preparation for surgery. For several years prior to my heart attack, our daughter had been urging us to be baptized. I had been baptized as a child and wasn’t entirely sure another baptism was necessary, but I realized she was prompting us out of true Christian love and a concern that we weren’t completely doing what God wanted us to do unless we were baptized as adults. While you may or may not agree completely with this doctrine, Gladys and I decided to comply. It wasn’t particularly formal or f"..cy. We invited two friends as witnesses and had another close Christian friend baptize us in our swimming pool. On August 7, 1988, I went to the hospital and died, While the cardiologist repaired my heart, I was clinically dead for one hour and thirty-six minutes. For the next two days, I lay in the recovery area, slowly coming out of the operation. The next night, August 10, 1988, I began to dream.

I had "The Dream" every night I fell asleep for eight weeks, Eight weeks times seven days is fifty-six dreams. And each dream began in the same place.

The woods

Each night as I fell asleep I found myself walking in the woods. This, was a unique feeling, because several years ago my left leg was amputated. In my dream, though, I had no sense of a physical body. I just felt complete. Whole. I also felt calm, peaceful, and somehow protected. There was a serenity in the woods that was absolutely restorative. Birds were singing. The limbs of the trees formed a vivid, green canopy overhead. I just kept walking, with no particular destination in mind. Eventually, I saw a light in the distance. As I walked toward it, I saw that the forest trail led into a beautiful meadow.

The meadow

When I stepped into the meadow, it seemed flat with knee-high grass. But the grass was a rich, luscious green. It was as if someone had painted the world in watercolors, then covered it with a thousand coats of lacquer. I’ll say this though, whatever artist painted the scene had a marvelous eye for color. Some great hand seemed to have gathered every wildflower seed in the world and cast it into the meadow. Plants that could never exist alongside one another anywhere else were thriving in the meadow. As I looked into the distance, beyond the wildflowers, I saw the rugs.

The rugs

There’s a special place in my heart for the rugs in the dream. They seem to weave the warmth, love, and comfort we get from our homes and families to the protection and acceptance we receive from our Creator. Each Spring, as I was growing up in West Virginia, my mother and grandmother rolled up all the rugs in the house and draped them over the clothesline. My job was to beat the dirt and dust out of the rugs. I’d wind up like a batter waiting for the right pitch, then let loose with a swing that sent clouds of winter’s accumulated dust sailing away in the fresh Spring air. After flailing the rugs, I just stood back and watched the wind toss the tassels along the edges of the rugs. It was beautiful. When I looked up from the wildflowers in the meadow, I thought I was seeing thousands of tapestries in the distance, floating majestically in the breeze. I felt compelled to see everything at once. I wanted to take in the beauty of each flower. I wanted to run through the thick grass. I wanted to go to the rugs, where I would certainly be reunited with my mother and grandmother. In the end, went to the rugs, drawn by the myriad of splendid colors that had apparently been woven into the fluttering carpets. As I drew nearer, though, I realized the tapestries were, in fact, not carpets at all. They were wings. Thousands of wings attached to an army of angels. The unearthly vivid colors – greens, blues, yellows, oranges, pinks, and other hues were part of the fabric of angels’ wings.

The angels

I began to walk among the angels. They stood alertly beside one another with their arms extended until their fingertips touched one another. The motion of their wings stirred a breeze that was refreshing and cool. I felt I was on Holy ground, I knew I was seeing angels, but they were unlike any paintings I had seen by Old Masters. These weren’t cuddly cherubs. They weren’t even man-sized. Each angel must have been at least twenty feet tall. Standing in their ordered ranks, they were truly God’s Guards. I was awestruck by their size and their aspect. Suddenly, I realized how frightening the assembly, of the Heavenly Host must have been to God’s people each time He permitted a glimpse into His domain.

The angels’ wings

Apart from their size, another curious difference in the angels was their wings. The colors within the tapestry that I had seen from across the meadow were vividly colored scrolls that the Creator had worked into each wing. Every depiction of angels in my experience had led me to expect brilliant white, bird-shaped wings protruding from the angels’ shoulder blades. What I saw instead was translucent wings, except for the bright scrolls I already mentioned, that connected the angels’ arms to their torsos. When the angels stood with their arms at their sides, their wings hung draped, like a centurion’s short cape. But when they held their arms out to prevent passage through their ranks, their wings were a riot of Holy colors riding the breeze.

The stairs and the angels

When I first approached the angels, I only noticed the incredible crowd of them. As I walked among them, though, they separated and I began to ascend steps. I didn’t physically climb. I seemed to rise through the air. It was more like floating than flying, but I almost felt as if I were riding an invisible elevator. Later, when I thought about my experience, I realized that this Heavenly Host was arrayed on a huge, pyramid-shaped dais with eight levels. I didn’t notice this at the time, because I was too close to take it all in. Like the angels, each level of the dais was nearly twenty feet tall. At the fifth level of the dais, the angels’ wings were white. At the seventh level, their wings were white on white. Looking up from there, I saw a great light coming from the eighth level.

The eighth step and the Lord

Inside the light coming from the eighth level was a presence whom I knew to be the Lord. As I walked closer to the eighth level, He came out of the light toward me. I felt a lightening, as if a heavy blanket had been removed from my shoulders, and a wonderful sense of joy. What freedom I felt as God’s wonderful love completely removed the weight of my sins. The depth of His forgiveness is incomprehensible. You know, everyone carries this burden of sin around with them. We’re born with it. We collect more of it all of our lives. Eventually, we become so accustomed to it that it ceases to bother us. I had no idea what I was carrying until God showed me the depth of His love by blessing me with His forgiveness. The indescribable joy was simply being in the Lord’s presence. I felt His arm as if it was placed around my shoulder. I felt His reassurance that everything – simply everything in life – was going to be okay. Most of all I felt His unconditional love.

The love of the Lord

The love of the Lord is the greatest love man can ever have. Nothing compares because Christ loves you as you are, no matter what you’ve done or been in the past. When He forgives you, every sin is forgiven 100 percent. In His presence, you know He is the best friend you’ve ever met or will ever meet. When He says "Everything will be okay.", He means that for everyone who believes in, or loves Him. Each time I dreamed the dream, I awakened at this point. I still get a thrill whenever I think of the dream. One of its most poignant and reassuring parts is Christ’s love. His love is so much greater than even the love of a mother. As a male, it is difficult to imagine the bond of a mother to the newborn baby that has been a part of her for over three- fourths of an entire year. She holds it in her arms and already knows it more intimately than any other living person. Christ knows us even more intimately. He knows our thoughts, our hopes, and our ultimate futures. And He loves us with a love that accepts us as we are, yet sees us as we can be. For eight weeks, this dream or vision occurred each time I slept. The colors, the angels, and the Lord were extremely vivid and clear. Oddly, though, I saw no faces. Not on the angels and certain1y not on the Lord. In my opinion, if I had seen the face of any heavenly creature I would not be sharing this story with you. Since my dream, I still feel the love and peace that I felt then, but I haven’t had the dream or vision since. I still struggle, but I approach each day thanking the Lord that the promise will continue for all of us and make our struggle for life worth pursuing. The promise is worth the pain and suffering because of what awaits us in the future.

Jesus Christ touches our lives daily through the Holy Spirit in each of us. So many of the simple things we do for one another are responses to the promptings of the Holy Spirit. Things like a kind word, a helping hand, a gentle response, a meal, a blanket, a flower, a poem, a painting, an inspiration, or a thought, to name just a few. He works through us by our prayers for each other. Faith in action is the way our Holy spirit works within us. As we sing, talk, laugh, share and pray together, we lift one another over the burdens of each day. Christ tells us to pick up our cross and follow him. What does that mean? We don’t have crosses. None of us keeps stout timbers leaning against the wall to conveniently grab as we head out the door. But the cross Jesus carried through the streets of Jerusalem was a terrible burden. Those we do have. As I made that connection in my study I began to think of things in my own life and the lives of those around me that we might give up to Him. The cross of a failed marriage; grief for a lost loved one; the lonely pain of watching those we care deeply for consumed by chemical dependency, gambling, lust, or greed; starvation or gluttony; hate and bigotry; impatience; frustration; poverty – the more I considered it, the more crosses I saw. How can we possibly carry these crosses daily? The only way I’ve found to shoulder the burden is to share. My way of doing that is to humble myself, sink to my knees, admit and accept my weaknesses and sins, and ask the Lord to share them with me. Until I do that, I can’t be lifted by Him and I don’t have enough room in my heart for the Holy Spirit. Just like everyday life, I am not comfortable inviting guests into my home until I’ve cleaned house. That’s what this time of opening my heart does for me. Our Lord has more love for us than any person on earth can imagine. When I was allowed into His presence, His Love was so very great and without any strings attached. With unconditional love, He pulled the burden of my sins off of me and forgave me right then and there. He did not say to me, "Richard, I will forgive you if you do this or that." He forgave me completely and showed me this Love that was above my wildest imaginations of what Love is. He wanted nothing from me but my complete happiness and well being. I was in awe. Could I boast about His Love for me? Absolutely not, because all of us have his Love unconditionally. All we need to do is have Faith in Him, Trust Him and do the best we can. His Love is limitless, caring, considerate and forever. In God’s time, everything will be okay.