A rural road in North Carolina (Wikimedia Commons public domain photo)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
Many years ago, there was a period when my speaking engagements on behalf of the old FARMS \u2014 the Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies, predecessor to the Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship and, organizationally, to BYU\u2019s new-direction Maxwell Institute \u2014 got a bit out of hand. \u00a0I was being sent out at least once a month, often to one of the coasts and, once or twice, first to one coast and then immediately, on the same weekend, to the other coast, to speak to sometimes rather small groups. \u00a0It was wreaking havoc with my family and with my personal academic work.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
On one such occasion, the father of the woman who had organized a fireside in\u00a0a middle-sized eastern city\u00a0at which I was to speak\u00a0picked me up at the local airport. \u00a0As it happened, she wasn\u2019t even in town, the fireside had received virtually no publicity (and only about thirty people showed up when it happened), and her father plainly resented being obliged to take time to deal with me. \u00a0(It was right after this trip that I finally put my foot down. \u00a0I didn\u2019t want to be a prima donna<\/em>, I said, but I was also tired of flying across the continent sometimes twice a month in order to speak to only politely-interested groups of two or three dozen.)<\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
Anyway, the fellow who fetched me at the airport was distinctly sullen about having to do so as we drove the considerable distance to where I would be staying. \u00a0But I\u2019ve always remembered that drive quite positively. \u00a0Why? \u00a0Because, for some reason or another, the topic of near-death experiences came up. \u00a0(I can\u2019t for the life of me remember how or why.)<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
I\u2019ve had one of those, he said. \u00a0I replied, Tell me about it!<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Here\u2019s a paraphrase of his account:<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Once, in his late teens, he was driving at night along one of the densely forested rural roads in that state. \u00a0Suddenly, without warning, he was t-boned at an intersection and found himself floating a least a hundred feet above the accident, looking down on the two vehicles.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
From his vantage point above the tree tops, he saw the flashing lights of police cars and an ambulance coming from a distance\u00a0toward the scene of the accident. \u00a0He watched as the medics worked on his body, trying to revive him. \u00a0He tried to tell them not to worry, that he felt perfectly fine \u2014 better, in fact, than he could ever remember feeling before. \u00a0But he couldn\u2019t make himself seen or heard. \u00a0Then, without warning, he felt himself reenter his body and, he recalled, \u201cit hurt like hell.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
That story has stayed with me for years. \u00a0It\u2019s astonishing how often, when the subject of near-death experiences comes up, someone in the group will say that she or somebody close to her has had one.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Anyway, with that as a lengthy preface, you\u2019ll understand why this story, which I read last night, struck me:<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
A young man lost control of his car during an evening snow storm. \u00a0He crashed and left his body as icy-cold water began to flow into the vehicle he had been driving.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
I saw the ambulance coming, and I saw the people trying to help me, get me out of the car and to the hospital. \u00a0At that time I was no longer in my body. \u00a0I had left my body. \u00a0I was probably a hundred or two hundred feet up and to the south of the accident, and I felt the warmth and the kindness of the people trying to help me. \u00a0<\/span><\/strong>(Reported in Nancy Evans Bush, Dancing Past the Dark: Distressing Near-Death Experiences<\/em> [n.p.: Nancy Evans Bush, 2012].)<\/span><\/p>\n\u00a0<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
\u00a0 \u00a0 Many years ago, there was a period when my speaking engagements on behalf of the old FARMS \u2014 the Foundation for Ancient Research and Mormon Studies, predecessor to the Neal A. Maxwell Institute for Religious Scholarship and, organizationally, to BYU\u2019s new-direction Maxwell Institute \u2014 got a bit out of hand. \u00a0I was being […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1019,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-67455","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"\n
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<\/a>