Constance suffered from a heart valve problem. She feared surgery, but without it, she had just six weeks to live.

“I have a leaky, sad heart,” she thought, as she walked into the rundown bathroom of a small café. An old speaker carried music into the bathroom, where Constance heard Amy Grant sing, “Lay down your burden, I will carry you. I will carry you, my child.”

Constance knew if a Higher Power could reach into a dingey little room and speak the words she needed to hear, he could protect her through her surgery, and that she mattered.

The surgery went well, but Constance ultimately needed a second procedure. She again sought solace, this time in a small Christian church near St. Louis. Inside the chapel, she saw a sculpture of Jesus, his hands outstretched toward her, the emblem of his sacred heart prominently displayed on his chest.

“Please help me through this,” she begged.

“Take my heart,” he answered back.

His words moved her to tears and gave her the courage to go forward.

A year later, healed from her second surgery, Constance returned to the small chapel, grateful for the strength she’d received.

“Here,” she said, returning the heart she’d barrowed. “I’m bringing it back.”

“No,” the Lord told her. “You keep it. But let it shine.”

Later, I sent Constance at text asking if I could share her experience with others. She’d been pouring out her soul to Heaven, asking what she might offer to help others. When she turned around, she saw her phone on her desk with my text brightly displayed.

She called and told me to share her story and to use her name. In so doing, she honored the promise she made during her near-death experience decades earlier, to proclaim the reality of God’s love for all.