Heaven Is for Real: A Little Boy's Astounding Story of His Trip to Heaven and Back Read Online Free PDF Page B

shouldnt have listened.

    There wasnt any finger-pointing, no blaming each other. But we were both really upset with ourselves. We had tried to do the right thing at each step. The doctor said Xrays; we did Xrays. The doctor said IVs; we did IVs. The doctor said blood tests; we did blood tests. He was the doctor, right? He knew what he was doing . . . right? At each turning point, we had tried to make the right call, but we had made the wrong ones, and now Colton was paying for it. A helpless child was suffering the consequences of our mistakes.

    Behind me, Colton slumped lifelessly in his car seat, and his silence was louder than any sound I had ever heard.

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    David tore his clothes and cried and prayed and pleaded with God. He was so grief-stricken that when the baby died, his servants were afraid to come and tell him. But David figured it out, and when he did, he got up, washed himself, ate, and calmly took care of the funeral. His behavior confused his servants, who said, Hey, wait a minute: werent you just freaking out a few minutes ago? Werent you just pleading and crying before God? Now youre so calm . . . whats the deal?

    David explained, I was hoping God would change his mind. But he didnt.2

    In his mind, David had been doing what he could while there was still something he could do.

    When I think back on that drive to North Platte, thats how I felt. Yes, the X-rays looked bad, and my sons face was covered in death.

    But he wasnt dead yet.

    Now was not the time to quit and mourn. Now was the time for prayer and action. God, let us get there. Let us help our son.

    As a father, I felt I had blown it. But maybe there was still something I could do to redeem myself. That hope was probably the only thing that kept me from falling apart.

    We crossed the North Platte line at about noon and made a beeline for the pediatricians office. I hustled out of the SUV and bundled Colton in a blanket, carrying him in my arms like a fireman. Sonja gathered up our gear and followed me in, still carrying the hospital bowl.

    At the reception desk, a pleasant woman greeted us.

    Were the Burpos, I said. We called ahead from Imperial about our son.

    The doctor has gone to lunch.

    Gone to lunch?!

    But we called ahead, I said. He knew we were coming.

    Please have a seat, the receptionist said. The doctor will be back in ten or fifteen minutes.

    Her routine manner told me she did not feel our urgency, and inside me, a rocket of anger went off. On the outside, though, I kept my cool. I couldve screamed and hollered, but it wouldnt have done any good. Also, Im a pastor. We dont have the luxury of publicly losing it.

    Sonja and I found a seat in the waiting area, and fifteen minutes later, the doctor arrived. He had the soothing appearance of maturitysilver hair, glasses, a trim moustache. The nursing staff ushered us back to an exam room, and Sonja handed him the packet of tests wed brought, along with the Xrays. He examined Colton so briefly that it occurred to me he might be making up for lost time.

    Im going to order a CT scan, he said. Youll need to head across the street to the hospital.

    He meant the Great Plains Regional Medical Center. Ten minutes later, we found ourselves in the imaging clinic in perhaps the most important argument of our lives.

    SEVEN "I THINK THIS IS IT"

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    But Colton, you have to drink it!

    Noooo! Its yuh-keeeee!

    Coltons screams of protest echoed through the clinic. He was so exhausted, so frail, so tired of throwing up his guts, and now we were trying to make him drink a thick, gritty, cherry-red solution that a sane adult wouldnt drink voluntarily in a million years. Finally, Colton took a little sip, but then immediately heaved it up again. Sonja swooped in to catch it in the bowl.

    Hes throwing up all the time, I told the imaging technician. Hows he going to drink it?

    Im sorry, sir . . . he has to drink it so we can get the best