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first time Id really been alone since the whole ordeal began. I had wanted to be strong for Sonja, a husband strong for his wife. I found her in the waiting room, using her last drops of cell phone battery to call friends and family. I hugged her and held her as she cried into my shirt until it stuck to my chest. I used what little battery was left on my cell phone to call Terri, my secretary, who would in turn activate the prayer chain at church. This was not a ritual call. I was desperate for prayer, desperate that other believers would bang on the gates of heaven and beg for the life of our son.

    Pastors are supposed to be unshakable pillars of faith, right? But at that moment, my faith was hanging by a tattered thread and fraying fast. I thought of the times where the Scripture says that God answered the prayers, not of the sick or dying, but of the friends of the sick or dyingthe paralytic, for example. It was when Jesus saw the faith of the mans friends that he told the paralytic, Get up, take your mat and go home.1 At that moment, I needed to borrow the strength and faith of some other believers. After I hung up with Terri, Sonja and I sat together and prayed, afraid to hope and afraid not to.

    Time dragged, the minutes moving at the speed of glaciers. Between muted conversations and small talk, the waiting room ticked with a pregnant silence.

    Ninety minutes later, a female nurse in purple scrubs, a surgical mask dangling from her neck, stepped into the waiting room. Is Coltons father here?

    The tone of her voice, and the fact that it was a nurse and not Dr. OHolleran, sent a surge of hope through my body.

    Maybe God is being gracious despite our stupidity. Maybe hes going to give us another day, another chance.

    I stood. Im Coltons dad.

    Mr. Burpo, can you come back? Coltons out of surgery, but we cant calm him down. Hes still screaming, and hes screaming for you.

    When they were wheeling Colton away, I couldnt bear his screams. Now, suddenly, I wanted to hear his screams more than Id ever wanted to hear anything in my life. To me, they would be a beautiful sound.

    Sonja and I gathered up our things and followed the nurse back through the wide double doors that led to the surgical ward. We didnt make it to the recovery room but met a pair of nurses wheeling Colton through the hallway on a gurney. He was alert, and I could tell hed been looking for me. My first reaction was to try to get as close as I could to him; I think I wouldve climbed on the gurney with him if I hadnt thought the nurses might feel a little put out.

    The nurses stopped long enough for Sonja and I each to plant a kiss on Coltons little face, which still looked pale and drawn. Hey, buddy, how you doin? I said.

    Hi, Mommy. Hi, Daddy. The ghost of a smile warmed his face.

    The nurses got the gurney under way again, and a few minutes and an elevator ride later, Colton was settled into a narrow hospital room at the end of a long corridor. Sonja stepped out of the room for a moment to take care of some paperwork at the nurses station, and I stayed behind, sitting next to Coltons bed in one of those mesh-covered rockers, drinking in my sons aliveness.

Heaven is for real
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    Daddy? Colton looked at me earnestly.

    What?

    He gazed at me and didnt move his eyes from mine.

    Daddy, you know I almost died.

    Fear gripped me. Where did he hear that?

    Had he overheard the medical staff talking? Had he heard something the surgical team said, despite the anesthesia? Because we certainly hadnt said anything about his being close to death in front of him. Sonja and I had feared he was at the brink, had known it after we learned his appendix had been leaking poison into his system for five days. But wed been very careful not to say anything in front of Colton that would scare him.

    My throat closed, the first sign of tears. Some people freak out when their teenagers want to talk about sex. If you think thats tough, try talking to your