When I Talked to God

 I remember 2008 as the year my heart was stopped and I talked to God.
    Well, it could have been God.  I thought it was. I was sure it was.  It was an intense bright light -- a big round brillant light. Maybe it was the bright light over the operating table.  But I couldn’t have seen that.  I was talking to God.
    Knowing that a surgeon is going to split open your chest, stop your heart in order to replace a diseased valve is scary. You are aware there is a good chance you will die.
    While my heart was stopped, I saw the bright light and 
 I asked God if I was going to live. 
     That depends on how you answer some questions, He said.
    Funny God asking me questions.  I thought He knew all the answers. Maybe He did, but He wanted to hear the answers from me. Who knows  about God? 
     It was like watching a multimedia movie or show.  He shows me movie pictures of football games, car races, a big long shot of Las Vegas, dancing girls, gambling tables, that sort of thing, and He asks me, “which do you love most, these things or your family?” That was an easy one to answer. 
    My family, I said. Then we came to the second question.
    He asks me, “which is more important to you, your family or your religion?”
    What do you say to God when he asks a question about religion? 
    I told Him the truth,  my family.
    I was afraid He was going to damn me to hell.  But He didn’t.  “Do you love your children above everything else?” he asked.  “I do,” I said. 
     “That’s a good answer,” God said.
    Then He said that when I woke up, I would forget our conversation. But I told myself, no, I’m not. I’m going to set it in my mind so deeply I won’t forget. I am going to remember it.
    I told my wife about my conversation with God when I became conscious the next day.  And now I'm telling you.
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