Cell Phones Don’t Work in Heaven began with a wake-up call, the kind that arrives without warning and rearranges the pieces of your life.
It was a perfect fall day, and I was at a hunting club shooting wild quail with friends. I had it all planned out: a pleasant afternoon in the field, dinner and drinks, a night at the lodge, and an early return to work in Atlanta.
Although I enjoy watching bird dogs work the field, I am not the best shot and was completely surprised when I hit a bird. I went over to pick it up, and I remember thinking, “This is not a good idea.” I was breaking one of the cardinal rules of hunting. I could not see every hunter in our group, and they could not see me.
The next thing I knew, I was on my knees. Blood was pouring from my face and I felt like I had been punched in the chest by a nail gun. In a split second, when I did not know if I was dead or alive, an enormous sense of peace and well-being washed over me. I felt that if I died right then, it would be okay. There was nothing to be afraid of.
Over the years, my hunting accident has morphed into one of the funniest stories I tell, but that’s a topic for another blog. There was a serious lesson in what happened. “It can’t happen to me” was just a story I told myself. It was a question of what and when, not if.
One night after the accident, I sat at my desk in a reflective mood, thinking about my family. Yes, if something happened to me, they would all be okay in the long term. But what about the chaos that would surely follow the first days and weeks of my absence? How would they find the critical information and financial resources they needed?
I grabbed a pencil and a yellow pad and began writing. The more I wrote, the more information I realized I needed to provide. Bank account numbers, the location of my will, the names and contact information for lawyers and accountants. Did I want my family to sell or hold our business? What about the valuable print hanging in my office? And who would be my family’s advisors when, not if—that sobering, cold-shower thought again—I was gone?
They were largely questions that only I could answer, and in a very short time I was able to organize all the information that I felt my family needed. The result: an absolutely essential document for my wife and children and a deep sense of peace and satisfaction for me.
Cell Phones Don’t Work in Heaven was written for you and your loved ones, to help you move toward that sense of relief and confidence that comes from taking charge of your personal affairs. Let me know what you think! Click here to buy the book!