Following this powerful demonstration of protection, my mind went to the seeming tragedy of Peace’s death. How could Peace, who felt such protection around her, have been killed by a car in a head-on collision? Then I remembered how Peace’s face lit up when she recounted her own near-death experience. She had been walking in the high mountains of Arizona when an unexpected snowstorm came out of season:

I was walking in a very isolated area, and I knew there was no human habitation for many miles. That afternoon there can one of those quick snowstorms. If it had been rain you would have called it a cloudburst, the snow just piled up so quickly. I noticed that the cars had stopped running on the road because they were getting stuck in the snow. And right after that, the darkness descended. Total darkness. I couldn’t even see my hand before my eyes. The snow was blowing in my face and it bitter cold. It was the kind of cold that penetrates into the marrow of your bones.

If ever I were to lose faith and feel fear, certainly this should have been the time. But instead this whole experience of the cold and snow and the darkness seemed to be unreal, to be an illusion. And the only thing that seemed real to me in that situation was the awareness of the presence of God. At that moment I knew that I was not this transient body. I knew that I was the indestructible reality that activates the body. When you identify not with the destructible clay garment but with the indestructible reality, how free you feel. I knew everything was going to be all right whether I remained to serve in this Earth life or whether I went on to serve in a freer life beyond.

I felt guided to keep on walking. I couldn’t see if I was walking along that highway or out into some field. I couldn’t see anything. My feet in my low canvas shoes were like lumps of ice. They just felt so heavy as I plodded along. Then my whole body began to become numb with the cold. When there was more numbness than pain, there came what some would refer to as a hallucination and what some would refer to as a vision. It was as though I became aware not only of the of the embodied side of life, where everything was black darkness and bitter cold and swirling snow, but also – and it seemed so close I could step right into it, indeed it is right here in another dimension – the unembodied side of life where everything was warm and light.

There was great beauty. It began with familiar color, and yet it transcended familiar color. Maybe that’s what the artists see. I became aware of what began as familiar music but transcended familiar music. Perhaps that’s what musicians hear. Then I saw beings, way off at a great distance, a lot of them, but only a few moved toward me. I recognized my aunt, although she looked much younger than she had looked when she had stepped over. And since I believe that at the time of the beginning of the change called death those nearest and dearest come to welcome us – I’ve been with those who stepped over and I remember well how they talked to their loved ones on both sides as though they were all right there in the room together – I thought my time had come to step over. I greeted her and I either said or thought to her, “You’ve come for me?” But she shook her head and motioned for me to go back.

And just at that point I ran into the railing of a bridge and the vision faded. Then, because I felt guided to do so, I groped my way down that snowy embankment and under that bridge I found a large cardboard packing box. It was full of wrapping paper. Very slowly and clumsily in my numb condition, I managed to get myself inside of that packing box. And somehow, with my numb fingers, I managed to pull that wrapping paper around me. And there, under the bridge during the snowstorm, I slept. Even there shelter had been provided.

But provided also had been this experience. Had you looked at me in the midst of it you might have said, “What a difficult experience that poor woman is going through.” But looking back on it I can only say what a wonderful experience, in which I faced death feeling not fear but the constant awareness of the presence of God, which you take right over with you. And of course I believe that I have had the great privilege of experiencing the beginning of the change called death. What a beautiful experience. And now I can rejoice with my loved ones as they make the glorious transition to a freer living.

My grief started to lift as I recalled her story. I could imagine her surrounded by angels at the time of her transition and reaching out as her loved ones approached, asking again, “Have you come for me?” Death is, after all, an experience we all face at the end of life’s journey. I remembered the unconditional love and peace I had felt during my own near death experience in Haiti. I still felt sadness at the loss of Peace’s physical presence, but it was softer now; I was able to embrace it in a way that was comforting.

And then the realization came. In dying, Peace had left the greatest gift of all. It was the reminder to look within. All the questions I had been waiting to ask her I was now asking inside. And, as I listened in the stillness, the answers were coming. Intellectually I had understood when Peace talked about the teacher within. “Don’t look to me. Look to your own inner teacher.” But I had continued to put questions aside to ask her. Now that she was gone I was reconnecting to that inner source. I was ready to return home.

Cheryl Canfield, CCHT, 2024