By JIM NICHOLS

The door looked directly into the room where the man lay in bed. He was very ill. He was dying and he understood that and did not seem afraid. This had been a long time coming.

When asked what he was learning from God during this time of his life, he answered first, “When it is time, it will end. I don’t know when.” Then he added, “I saw a person outside the door. I did not recognize him or her and was not sure what I was seeing. The person did not speak, but just stood there outside looking in.”

Statements such as this are not unusual when dealing with individuals near the end of human life. Frequently, the patient will report quite casually that his or her deceased mother or father had appeared in the corner of the room, and they had spoken to one another. Another patient might report that the family dog from years ago had come and jumped into bed. “That dog always smelled kind of bad and I remembered that smell. I enjoyed petting it again.”

I have been in many meetings with healthcare providers discussing patients when such appearances are reported and generally termed “hallucinations.” In the poverty of our language, this “hallucination” word has been generally discounted. These sights have been relegated to the effects of medicines or, at best, brain oddities accompanying the end of life. They are not considered “real” or, frankly, important. They are in the make-believe category.

Jumping back to the first part of life, we see the same characteristics in young children. Every preschooler I have known has had a whole set of friends that only the child could see. The child talks to these friends, shares toys and activities, and is comforted by the friends’ presence. An adult having a conversation with the child can learn a lot about these friends with just a few questions. Occasionally, the child might express astonishment that we, as adults, do not recognize and acknowledge this friend. We use the term “make-believe” in this case, but seldom call it an hallucination.

Perhaps both time frames, the beginning, and the end of life, are alike in that they show us more clearly the enchantment of the world. Adult you and I have lost the child version of this enchanted world and, as healthy individuals with probably years of human life ahead, have not yet reached the last time of sensing the enchantments. During this in-between time (most of our adult lives), we are too reasonable, too mature, too experienced, too proud, too immersed in human life to be aware of such things. That may be our great loss.

Even people who take these seriously have trouble describing them. The mystical experiences are transitory and short lived. They are hard to explain to someone else. The individual cannot make these experiences occur; the moment just happens. They are not pieces of information, but more like revelations.

Author David Brooks writes about the significant role our personal ancestors play in our lives. We may never have even known these family members of the past, but they may well be lurking in our spiritual background.

Those of us with a religious bent come to this type of thinking more easily. In scripture (John 17) the author speaks of the Holy Spirit dwelling in the living and dead, past, present, and future. We have generalized this concept with our term the “Communion of Saints.” The Apostles Creed refers to this.

In the Transfiguration story, Jesus and three disciples are visited by two individuals from the past. Are Elijah and Moses the only two who can return and visit?

I am working to avoid cutting myself off from any expression of God in my life, even if I cannot explain it well.

Jim Nichols is a retired Abilene Christian University biology professor and current hospice chaplain