A few days later, I was taking a little rest in the afternoon at my home, lying in the same spot where Linda lay in her last illness. I was half asleep looking at the top of the tall oak trees, and I saw, suddenly, so clearly up above in the sky: a vision enclosed in a white mist.

I saw the top of a church where there were ensculptured all these figures of the Christmas story and around the circle, within the white mist, were circling many, many white angels; angels whose feet were all crossed in exactly the same way.

The feet were strong. They looked like our feet, the feet of people like us, people here on earth, but they were extremely strong and well formed. Their hands were all folded in prayer; their clothing was all exactly alike; their hair was drawn back in exactly the same way with a sort of a bun at the back of the neck.

I couldn't tell what sex they were by their facial expression or form. They all looked the same, and there was a feeling of complete stability, absolutely poise, peace, and happiness, of contentment, and reassurance on their faces; especially the one large angel in the center who stood poised for a little while, looking at me with an expression of complete assurance.

I was smiling. I felt so completely happy that I knew real peace for the first time since I had lost Linda. Then that angel suddenly came very close to me-a motion not perceptible in space!

There were certain very striking qualities about these heavenly figures, these angels, which I recall as vividly now as I did at the moments I saw them. The most precious gift is one that cannot ever perish, said the Scottish poet, George MacDonald, and "If instead of a gem, or even a flower, we could cast the gift of a lovely thought into the heart of a friend, that would be giving as the angels must give."

There was a lastingness, an everlasting unendingness about the angels. In communicating to me, no words were spoken, but I understood, with another sense, the message they brought. The intellect of the angel was manifested by the power of projecting thought in this way. It was the one angel who came closer-moving towards me in a motion (of immobility and transposition at the same time there in space) that we humans cannot have, for instead of my seeing the movement, the angel was suddenly much, much closer, and bigger. It was this angel who placed this tremendous healing within me.

The warmth of great love during this vision, the communication without spoken words, the force drawing us together into this harmony of love and understanding and strength, and the placidity and intensification of a bit of earthly time into a never ending timelessness of creation, so that a new significance is attached to everything little or big. These were the most sharply vivid memories that stay every moment with me. As the constant circling never diminished within the white clouds of mist and no unnecessary motion disturbed their tremendous concentration of movement, they brought their message.

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