12 Seconds

By Anne Elliott-Widmer

Every one of us has a story; our journey through life. Our decisions and choices pave our individual path to eternity. When those final moments between life and death arrive there is no going back to change our mind. Whats done is done.

Follow one woman who, having survived a troubled life filled with poor decisions and self-destructive behavior, faces both her past and her destiny in a matter of 12 Seconds.

Carpe Diem, because it might be your last!

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Mar 4, 2016
• ISBN: 9781512732986

Anne Elliott-Widmer

Anne Elliott-Widmer spent most of her life in St. Charles, Missouri where she worked in psychiatric and chemical dependency treatment facilities. She later changed her career path by working as a coordinator for a software company’s sales and marketing team. Anne now lives in Paragould, Arkansas with her husband, Phillip. She has a daughter, Hannah and three step-sons, Jacob, Matthew and Nicholas.

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Copyright © 2016 Anne Elliott-Widmer.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WestBow Press

A Division of Thomas Nelson & Zondervan

1663 Liberty Drive

Bloomington, IN 47403

www.westbowpress.com

1 [phone]

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-5127-3299-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-3300-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5127-3298-6 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016903300

WestBow Press rev. date: 3/3/2016

Contents

Acknowledgements

Prologue

1 Second

2 Seconds

3 Seconds

4 Seconds

5 Seconds

6 Seconds

7 Seconds

8 Seconds

9 Seconds

10 Seconds

11 Seconds

12 Seconds

While this story is not theologically based with

regard to the experience of death, my prayer is

that it will inspire in others a desire to strive for

a deeper relationship with Jesus Christ.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thank you to Freddie Widmer and Hayley Vowell for taking on the painstaking task of proof reading and editing the copy. I appreciate and love you both so much!

Spirit in the Sky was originally written and recorded by Norman Greenbaum in 1969.

The Nicene Creed, quoted at the end of Chapter 10, is a profession of faith widely used in Christian Liturgy.

For Phillip, my Chieftain

PROLOGUE

The darkness of night and early morning rainfall had given way to a new sunrise on the horizon. She drove the straight path in New Mexico leading to Roswell for another family reunion. She scanned the road ahead of her. On either side was nothing but God’s naked earth and several tumbleweeds that rolled with the rhythm of the wind. The stretch of road was long and uninhabited and except for the occasional shack that had once served as a filling station in days past, the area was completely desolate. While the drive might seem burdensome to many, she didn’t mind it at all. The lonesome journey gave her time to ponder the mysteries of life and to put things in perspective.

She was aware that the sun had barely had a chance to rise before its tug of war began with the rain clouds. As she fought being hypnotized by the yellow rectangles of paint that separated her from any non-existent oncoming traffic she noticed out of the corner of her eye one end of a rainbow. A smile reached her lips, and as she looked to the other side, she saw the other end of the rainbow. Now that’s awesome! she said aloud to herself as she followed one end to the other with her eyes.

She had never seen a rainbow stretch from one side of the earth to the other. To be driving straight through the center sent a wave of excitement through her body. She leaned forward and looked through the top of her windshield to get a clear view of the spectacle surrounding her. Could this be an omen? If it was, it was a sweet one filled with wonder and awe. Suddenly she was overwhelmed with a feeling of complete joy.

She held a lit cigarette between her long fingers as she gripped the steering wheel. She noticed the smoke streaming to one side of her hand, as the warm damp air from outside pulled it through the driver side window. She could clearly remember teaching herself to smoke so that she’d look cool and independent. After numerous bouts of coughing and choking she had it down to a fine art and took pride in the fact that she looked as though she’d been doing it for years. It wasn’t until she was an adult and totally addicted that she realized how utterly ridiculous it looked and how amazingly expensive it had become.

She took another long drag off her cigarette and thought about quitting once again, an idea that had invaded her thoughts many times during the last several years. It was a nasty habit and she was well aware of the health risks. She grimaced at the thought that it might very well be the thing that would kill her and she resented the day she ever began. She then let her mind wander on its usual course of deep thoughts. This time her mind pondered thoughts of what might happen during the last few seconds of life. Was it instantaneous or did it take place in a different realm where time seemed to stand still? Was there pain? Would you be aware of what was happening? Would you be cognizant of your surroundings and the life you were leaving behind? Would whatever existed beyond this world be familiar? What was waiting on the other side to be discovered?

A small pothole jolted her back to reality. Spirit in the Sky was beginning to play on the single radio station she could pick up on the long lonely road. She turned up the volume and the beat flooded the car with a pounding bass. Listening to music gave her a sense of total freedom and she sang as loudly as she could without the fear of being overheard by anyone. She didn’t have a great voice, but it didn’t matter because she was the only one there.

She exhaled another drag from her cigarette and thoughtlessly flicked the ashes out the lowered window beside her. As the wind blew through her long blond hair the stereo continued its bass filled beat. She moved the burning cigarette to her right hand while glancing at the clock on her dashboard as it changed to 7:07.

1 SECOND

Goin’ up to the spirit in the sky—spirit in the sky

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Tapping the palms of her hands on the steering wheel, she kept beat to the music blaring from the speakers. One more misguided tap hit the butt of the cigarette, knocking it from between her fingers, and sent it reeling through the air. It toppled, seemingly in slow motion, butt over red tip several times before landing on the floorboard on the passenger side of the car. Her eyes squinted closed as she muttered, Crap, under her breath. The squinting of her eyes gave the illusion that the toppling red-tipped end of the cigarette was a flickering red light.

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As a child, she and her sisters would lie under their Christmas tree looking up at strands of lights through the branches. They would squeeze their eyelids open and closed over and over, giving the illusion that the lights were flickering. The giggles and chatter would continue until the laughter slowed and quieted and that last squint held them in sleep.

Christmas tree lights held a mystical quality for her, and Christmas was her favorite time of year. The world could be falling down around her, but Christmas made everything right again. The bleak, cold despair of the world seemed to become more bearable during the season. It didn’t seem to matter which phase of her life she was in; the season would put all emotions other than peace and happiness on hold for her. The joyful time was a welcomed escape from the pain that surrounded her throughout her life.

The torment that dwelt within her began to diminish after Halloween. It didn’t just cease, but each day between the pumpkins, candy, costumes, and Thanksgiving would bring less anxiety. With each day, the air would grow crisper and fresher and the tree leaves would turn from green to orange and red. This meant that Thanksgiving wasn’t far off. The changing colors and the fresh air rejuvenated her spirit. The day after Thanksgiving was the day her family would put up the Christmas tree. With the erecting of the tree came inner peace and the magic of Christmas.

All of the ornaments hung within the branches beside one another, mostly glass balls of red, green, and gold. Some of the ornaments were stars made of tin, while others were little ceramic angels covered with blue dresses that were hung by a gold string attached to their backs. Several were little paper ornaments she and her two sisters had made. At the top of the tree, her father would place a big silver star. The final touch would be the shiny tinsel that hung from the branches like icicles. The lights would bounce off the silver tinsel, causing everything to look much more colorful.

One of her favorite ornaments didn’t go on the tree but sat on a table beside it. It was a tin windmill painted gold, with a small plate holding four tiny angels. The angels held trumpets that appeared to be blowing the windmill piece around. As the windmill turned, so did the angels underneath. Four white candles were lit on the plate supporting the windmill and the angels. According to her father, the heat given off by the candle flames was actually what turned the windmill at the top.

One year as a child, she’d had the mumps during the Christmas season. She would lie on the couch in their living room and watch the angel windmill for what felt like hours. Taking in the magic of the colors and lights that decorated their home took away from the pain that throbbed in her rosy little cheeks. At one moment, an idea struck her: simply blowing on the angels would make everything spin faster. As she blew, all of the weight shifted to one side and the windmill fell over, sending the angels, the candles, and the tiny little windmill to the floor. As she lay staring at the mess she had created, she realized that her idea wasn’t such a good one after all. Melted wax seeped into the carpet. The candles, which only stayed lit for a moment after falling to the floor, left black charred marks.

Someone had to clean the mess up. Her mother began the familiar task of correcting another one of her many mistakes. Mommy wasn’t happy about the familiar task, and she watched in disappointment and shame as her mother picked the dried wax from between the carpet strands and attempted to erase the black streaks with a damp cloth. Within moments, she simply rolled over and fell asleep. Sleep was an easy escape, and it allowed her to dream of nicer things—perfect things. Reality held no perfection for her. Her life was filled with pain and disappointment. This pain began for