I thought I knew God–until death swirled me into His front yard when at age 34, a viral attack on my liver opened the door to my death.

When the viral attack slowed my liver functions to the point where eating solid food became impossible, I was hospitalized. Rest was the sole prescribed medicine and I slept for six days.

It was during the hospitalization when I drifted from a heavy sleep into a weightless flight into the dimension most commonly called, “heaven.”

I remained in heaven for what felt like a short time, and as quickly as I had been plucked from by hospital bed, so too I was returned to it and to my life on earth.

During the years that followed, I seldom spoke about the heavenly experience; however, not talking about the experience did not diminish its memory. It was not until I reached middle age when my silent position began to change. The reality of the extra years of life I had been given began to press at me and make me feel as if I had to use whatever time I left on earth to tell others about what I had seen and what I had learned.

Being a seasoned writer of hard news, weekly columns and the methodical rigors of technical writing, I tried to type the heavenly experience into earthly words. My initial attempts failed. I was overwhelmed, feeling as if I were trying to capture an ocean in a teaspoon.

I questioned God in prayer, repeatedly asking why I had been given the heavenly experience, if I were not to write it into words to share with others.

What I believed had been a commission given to me during my next life journey rang in my ears, “Look and remember,” the Voice had said more than once, and only after quieting myself enough to listen with my spirit, did I hear the same Voice I had heard during my journey, whisper, “Paint what you saw.” I tried to paint the heavenly space many times, and many times I gave up and quit, until a day when I stared at a blank canvas and heard the whisper, “Put down the brushes, it is in your hands, it is in you.”

On that day, I did not hesitate; I pushed the brushes out of the way, and put my fingers and hands into the paints and onto the canvas.

The results of putting my hands and fingers to the canvas are a collection of more than 65 paintings of what I saw and learned on my heavenly journey. The collection of “Look and Remember” paintings is for you. I invite you to open your mind and heart and come with me on your journey to the House of God Energy.