My life story that I believed led to a near death experience.

By: Tavia McDowell

The date was August 24, 1946, the place, North Carolina, where my parents had gotten married.
One month later, my mother was pregnant; she ended up losing the child upon a slip and fall on her way to satisfy a craving.
Nonetheless, she birthed five girls and one boy, my awesome dad helped raise them.
Over the years, my father suffered with diabetes. It was the year 1960, my mother, knowing the lack of education the southern state was known for, anxiously wanted to move the family to New York. My father totally agreed, and helped to establish a place for them to live in a small town called Port Chester. After my family settled into an apartment, my father’s health began to deteriorate; the disease caused him to stop work, and apply for disability. Two miscarriages later, my mother had gotten pregnant with me.

I was the last of the Mohegan so to speak. My father and my brother were sad that I wasn’t a boy at birth but nevertheless, they loved me just the same. My father was later diagnosed with cancer; he begged the doctor never utter a word to my mother of him having this illness. It was on my father’s death bed, my mother discovered he had been keeping that a secret for years.
My mother forced me to go to my father and ask his forgiveness for the way I had been treating him over the pass years. You see, during my adolescent stages I took advantage of his inability to physically punish me whenever I did something wrong; at that time he was confined to a wheelchair, and couldn’t do anything for himself. I did as mom asked, and I suddenly felt the weight of my pass sins lift from my shoulders. My father accepted Jesus Christ as his personal savior when he suffered the loss of his eye due to an operation at the veteran’s hospital in the Bronx, N.Y. where he later died a month before his 60th birthday 1981.

I was 18-years-old when I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, and I also received the Holy Spirit that same year 1983; it was five-years I lived a Godly life, but not long after those years I began to backslide.
It was the year 1989; I was 24-years of age when my mother and I were forced to move out of our apartment, and move in with family members. I continued to work on temporary jobs, and my praying, God fearing mother worked on her job she held for a little over twenty-years, the entire process of adjusting to a whole new environment, made us think of that old saying
“God bless the child who has its own.”
We tried looking into a place to live, but our combined income wasn’t enough. Public assistance refused to help us, because we were working, and had automobiles.
My mother and I bounced from family members to the homes of members from a neighborhood church we attended occasionally.
I develop panic attacks during the course of me having to live with church members who I considered strangers.
The life altering situation we were faced with, was taking a toll on our physical health. We longed for a home cooked meal, though the only meal we could afford was fast foods.

After the third year of our homelessness, 1993, we were offered to live with family members in another state; it was the first time I had to live without mom on my own. I moved with my sister to Virginia, and my mother moved to Florida with her daughter’s family. My mother had to adjust to her new environment, as did I.
From time to time she’d call me in Virginia, to check on me.
She’d often say with a southern accent, “When I get my own place, I will send for you. Mama loves you, okay.” Her gentle voice brought tears to my eyes.
I replied okay, with a chipper attitude yet deep inside, I was a rec. The devil would plant thoughts of suicide, but I was too scared of where I’d end up for attempting it; I was always afraid of dying, especially me being backslidden. I know God was married to the backslider, but I also knew if I died I would end up in hell.

The thought of being away from my mother was weighing on me.
Just as I hung up the phone from her, a panic attack would occur.
I develop them during the course of me having to live with church members who I considered strangers.

It was a day like all the others.
I lie asleep in bed at my sister’s town home. I woke one morning, my sister was at work and I was in the house alone.
The sun shined through the closed bedroom window, it lit the entire room.
I turned my head to look at the alarm clock, it was 10am.
Just as I turned my head back, I closed my eyes and instantly went into a deep sleep.
I don’t remember anything except for flying over what appeared to be stone structures not exactly the kind of buildings you’d find livable. I remember feeling happy, and free from fear. My body hovered in mid air over the tanned stone structures. Just as I looked up at a bright light that appeared suddenly, I remember I uttered, “I’m going to see Jesus.” My body thrust forward. Just as I got near the light, something stopped me. I heard a male’s voice say, “Go back!”
In my mind, I questioned (I’m dead?) somehow I knew this.
My body flung backwards. It was as though I was being sucked down a dark and narrow tunnel. The sides of the tunnel was like being in the eye of a jet-black tornado, not that I knew what the inside of a tornado looked like, but somehow I did. I also remember facing forward, but I could see behind me. I saw my body lying face up, with my hands folded over my stomach. It was like looking through a telescope, and the focus was on me only. I slammed into my body, the impact sounded like a thump.
I opened my eyes, and remained calm. I looked over at the alarm clock, once again, and saw it was 10:30am.

After experiencing this, my fear of dying had ceased. However, I still don’t have a clue as to why it happened in the first place.
All I know is God may have great things for me to do on this earth.
God allowed me several more years to live as a backslider, until
I was admitted in the hospital on Jan. 18th 2007. I had been experiencing dizziness, shortness of breath, and chest pains. The doctors took an x-ray of my chest, and informed me there were two blood clots in my lungs. After receiving this life-threatening news, I made up my mind to pray a prayer of repentance; I asked God to come into my heart. During my hospital stay, both of my arms were poked and bruised by needles to draw blood, and to insert IVs.
I’ve had three blood transfusions, along with blood thinners pumping through my veins. And, that’s not all; I had a fibroid tumor that was the size of a full-grown baby, inside of my uterus. The doctor informed me, this was what caused the clots to push up into my lungs, and it was imperative that I have it removed. The surgery was a total hysterectomy. The surgeon removed the ovaries, fallopian tubes, along with the uterus. If you’ve never gone under the knife in your life, you could imagine what I was thinking, and going through. Having once known the teachings and the ways of God, I knew to ask Jesus Christ back into my life. The Lord accepted me with open arms in that hospital room, and gave me abundant strength to get me through the surgery. I felt God's Holy Spirit rise within me, while I underwent a series of procedures for the preparation of the surgery. I had a small filter inserted in my lower abdomen to keep clots from forming. I had to undergo an MRI, a CAT scan, and a Stress test; all but one gave me great discomfort. The injection of chemicals, and dyes were the worst. My virgin body took a beating. What I meant by (Virgin body) is, my body had never undergone this type of treatment before. The dye injections during the stress test were performed in this manner. The doctor injected a chemical into my veins to make my heart race, causing a shock wave of pain coursing through my heart; I prayed aloud. The entire ordeal vexed my soul, and through it all, I did nothing but pray. It was the 3rd of February 2007, when I returned home from the hospital. I've recovered nicely, and now I attend church regularly. Glory is unto God.

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