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MY CROWS AND ME

Close-up of a black crow's head with detailed feathers and beak.
testing
Hand holding a quarter above a wooden surface casting a shadow.

MY CROW(S) AND ME

December 3,2025

As of late, I’ve developed the challenge, and the heart, to befriend a crow.  I say crow(s) because it can be interesting to try to discern one crow from another.  They look identical…right? or do they?

I choose to believe that it is one particular crow.  The one who left me that penny on my bedroom windowsill this summer.

 It all started with a tug on my heart in the summer of 2025. For reasons I don’t know, I began to desire a bond with a crow.  I thought it would be cool to befriend one of the noisy and persistently bold birds that periodically present themselves on my front yard. I had been feeling the desire for their friendship for a few weeks before the penny mysteriously showed up.

THE BACKGROUND AND THE BUILDUP

It was a Sunday morning. During my breakfast I had read about consciousness in the lifestyle section of the Epoch Times. There was an article about a man with a family and a job who had only 30% of his brain functioning due to hydrocephalus.  There was a case study about him because of his capacity to function seemingly normally, in spite of the fact that he did not have a fully functioning brain.  The phenomenon is leading more research in the source of consciousness because clearly, it is not seated within the brain like science has always maintained. The idea of consciousness lingered in my mind for days.

That evening, I had a dream about my crow. Well, it’s not actually ‘my crow’. Not yet. Hopefully eventually however we will be friends. In my dream there were 2 birds on a fence railing. One of the birds was a female cardinal. There are two cardinal pairs that live on my property. One of the females even laid 3 eggs in my wygalia bush this past summer.

So, I wasn’t surprised she showed up in my dream. There was a beautiful jet black crow perched on the railing to her right. I put out my right hand and the smaller bird hopped onto my open palm. The crow sat there and allowed my to pet it on the head with my left hand before it flew away. This was all in my dream on that Sunday night.

I got up the next morning to put birdseed out on my bedroom windowsill. And thats when I discovered the 1993 penny just sitting there. This was a mystery to me because the window sill is nearly 7 feet from the ground. There is a huge rhodadendran bush in front of the window as well. When the penny showed up and I wrote about it in a facebook post, friends all said that that was crow behavior. Afterwards I did a bit of research to see if other birds (like sparrows, cardinals or even the occasional blue jay that landed on my windowsill) have been noted to bring items to human beings.  Apparently, its consistently afforded only to crows.

Crows are considered the smartest of all the birds in the avian kingdom.  I had never seen a crow land on my windowsill for food like the other birds that gather there.  Plus, since there is a large rhododendron bush in front of that bedroom window, I couldn’t imagine how a crow would manage to squeeze into that space.  But, they are the smartest of all birds I am told, so maybe they have their clever ways.

Maybe my crow (which I now love to call it)  was aware that I had begun a practice of feeding the birds in my yard to create a sort of bird sanctuary in my own suburban plot.  I had birdhouses and bird feeders and even a bird bath. Maybe it was watching over the summer and decided it wanted a part of the action.

I can’t help but consider the possibility that my consciousness mingled with that particular crow’s consciousness. Maybe the desires of my heart mingled with the heart of a crow. Maybe consciousness is a vast energy that is God, and there is really no separation between our consciousness and all of nature’s. Maybe a human’s consciousness can mingle with a bird’s consciousness.  And to take it a step further, maybe it was the crow’s consciousness that quickened my own heart.  Maybe the crow initiated the desire for me to befriend it?  It’s the ‘what came first’ quandary …the chicken or the egg; and in this case, the crow or the human being? This is a mystery I love to dance with in my quiet moments in my garden.

COHABITATING WITH THE BIRDS.

December 10,2025

I’ve lived here for over 20 years with my husband Larry. The first nearly 15 years we had a Bengal cat named Luna who was a master hunter. I even witnessed her leap and nearly catch a hummingbird one summer. She’d proudly bring me little animals (unharmed baby bunny rabbit, or chipmunk or even a bird). I didn’t want to risk a baby bird falling out of a birdhouse and it becoming a delightful toy or meal for Luna.  And I didn’t trust her desire to leap to the birdfeeder as a chickadee fed on sunflower seeds. So, I never bothered inviting birds into my gardens. Luna reigned supreme. It was her kingdom.

Luna died at the age of 19 a few years ago. So, this past spring of 2025, I finally realized that there was nothing stopping me from creating a bird sanctuary so up went the bird feeders. Suet cages hang strategically. Bird feeders for sunflower seeds and a variety of smaller seeds are hanging in my gardens. I have several bird feeders hanging throughout my front yard. Birds of all types and species gather. The morning doves prefer to pick up scattered seeds on the ground below the feeders. There are the exquisite and charming cardinals and the loud and proud blue jays. The woodpeckers (of all sizes) would devour the giant suet if left to their own resources.

I began purchasing a type of suet with cayenne pepper as a way of discouraging the always ravenous squirrels from competing with the birds for it. I didn’t know that the birds don’t have the taste buds to be bothered by the pepper. But squirrels do. And, oh do the squirrels disrupt my bird watching. My husband had purchased a water gun for my grandson that summer and we began using that to scare off the squirrels who tried to claim ownership of the birdfeeders. The stream of water reached over 20 feet and the sound was startling. It worked to scare the rascals away, but it was a constant battle. The battling dragged out all Spring and into the summer, but it appeared that by the fall of 2025 that we had won that war. (at least for the moment).

I began adding a cupful of seeds to my windowsill that summer as well and was thrilled when the birds began lighting upon the sill for breakfast every day. Now they live by the dozens in the azalea bush and winter jasmine in front of my bedroom. It reminds me of a sort of bird condominium. It’s a great life for them. They have reliable security and sanctuary in the bushes and a reliable food source in the mornings. A variety of sparrows can be fairly noisy when the sun come up in summer.  But it’s so much more charming than an alarm clock. I can hear there back and forth chatter from the bushes when they awaken and the half awake me knows that dawn has arrived.

Usually one of them will begin a demanding ‘chirp’ on the rhodadendren bush limb. Its my cue. My new alarm clock. They are ready for me to pour a cup of their birdseed on the windowsill. They have me well trained. They come get their breakfast and then return to their bush or fly around and do what birds do and return at nightfall to their safe space. It’s like we are now cohabitating and I love every minute of it.

ENTER MY CROW

December 26, 2025

Maybe the crow was trying to get my attention and my friendship.  Maybe it had been observing from it’s perch in a high branch the array of free food all over my yard and wanted a piece of the action.  Or maybe it simply wanted my friendship, and it left me the penny to capture my attention.

It was a 1993 penny that sat on the 6 inch stone windowsill outside my bedroom. The Monday morning it showed up followed a dream I had the night before. I dreamt that there was a female cardinal on a fence railing sitting beside a crow.  I put out my hand and the smaller bird hopped onto my palm. The crow sat there and let me pet it on its head for a bit before it flew off.  A sparrow chirped me to the window sill on the Monday morning as I awakened from that dream.  And there was the penny.

That penny altered my life in a delightfully charming way.  It blossomed my attentiveness to the birds in my yard into something lovelier and so much fun.  My husband and I get so much joy now watching the array of birds outside our kitchen window as we drink our morning coffees.  We have a beautiful red maple directly in front of our kitchen window with bird feeders and even birdhouses.  It’s become our morning ( and daily) entertainment. We’re both now ‘semi-retired. Maybe that has given us the pleasure of taking a deeper breath of life and enjoy what God provides in ways we took for granted before. There is joy in ‘slowing down’.

I began doing some internet research about crows and learned, amongst other things, that they love dog kibble.   I have a dog, Angus. He’s a sweet Scottish terrier/ schnauzer mix. He didn’t seem to mind my stealing a cup of his kibble each morning to feed my new friends. Although, he’s totally curious as to where I’m going with his dog food each morning. After I feed him I’ll scoop up more kibble and carry it outside. He gives a single bark as I close the door behind me and head to the stone bench that I’ve allocated for the crow’s new meal location.

I began placing the scoop of kibble on a stone bench in my front garden near the street.  That has become their spot for their daily buffet.

I can tell when they are near, because they are so loud.  Loud means that you can hear them when they are blocks away…and really loud when they are either hovering over my yard or close by in my neighbors yard.  We are learning each other…me and my crow.

WHO’S TRAINING WHO?

A pattern has developed between me and my crow (or my crow family).  I know it’s the same crow (and it’s partner or spouse) because they come in two’s.  I can hear the caw-caw nearby so I know its calling me letting me know it’s near. It’s becoming a daily ritual. I put a cupful of kibble on the bench.  Sometimes I add a handful of shelled peanuts or organic cherrioes, or even stale sourdough bread that I soaked a bit ahead of time to soften it. I’ve begun to do my own human ‘caw-caw’ back to them.  I’ve no doubt that my neighbors who actually witness me doing this have concluded that that gray haired old lady is nut job, but I don’t care.  I am having way too much fun creating this interactive dance with my crows. There’s is some benefit to being my age. There’s a deeper appreciating for what matters in this life. Like as we age we’re given access to a deeper knowing of why we are here on this earth. And what other people think of us simply takes a back sit to living God’s life to its fullest.

Once the food is on the stone bench in my garden my ‘job’ is done. I usually go back to my kitchen and watch from my window with my morning coffee in hand. Nine times out of ten, my crow will  appear within 3-5 minutes for it’s breakfast! At this point, I don’t know if its me training them or they are training me, and there again, I don’t care.  There is such levity in dancing with nature.

One day, my beautiful black beauty appeared and he was joined by his partner within moments.  Usually It’s the one at first who lands on the ground by the stone bench.  He bobbed his head a bit which looks like he’s peeking to see whats on the bench, or simply deciding if he wants to eat.  He called out to his partner with his Caw-Caw. Sometimes in a twin staccato and sometimes a three.  Its so obvious he was calling to his mate. She showed up within minutes and landed on the street beside the bench.

They both jumped up and began pecking at the peanuts.  This was the first time I used peanuts mixed with the kibble.  He took one peanut and flew across the street to my neighbor’s roof.  He worked his way down to the rain gutter and it looked like he was pecking at the rain gutter. The other crow pecked at the food on the bench and flew across the street to the grass and pecked at the grass. They came back to the bench and repeated the same pattern. I asked my husband to google if crows store food for winter like squirrels do.

Sure enough they do!  They’re known to hide their food in rain gutters and other places.  Often they will try to deceive any observing predators by making it look like they are burying their loot somewhere else (like the ground) and then hide it somewhere else.  I saw the one crow peck at the ground and then fly to the top of a narrow evergreen. It poked around at the top, which swayed by the weight of the crow.  I suspected that it was hiding its peanut in a nest at the top of the evergreen.

One morning I had a piece of sourdough toast that had become hard sitting on my counter for a day.  I softened it a bit with water and broke it into smaller pieces.  I was stunned to catch a peek at my crow dunking the bread into the bird bath water to soften it up to make it more edible.

Another morning I watched the 2 crows at their stone bench buffet. I could feel their enthusiasm across the yard. They were loving the peanuts I added with their feast that morning. A couple of houses down I saw a handful of other crows ‘shouting’ at them and swooping closer to my yard. My 2 crows flew over to my neighbors tree and were screaming back at the other newcomers. It was clear to me that they were letting them know, in no uncertain terms, that this feast belonged to them! After about 10 minutes the other crows flew away, and ‘my crows’ got back to work on what they had claimed as their own. I do love my crows.

One of the charming things I notice is that they are not greedy. They may want to stake their claim on ‘their’ food, but most days they leave some behind for other scavengers. A passing crow, or cat..or the nocturnal racoon. I know its a raccoon because in the mornings all the food will be gone and a small turd is left behind to mark its own territory.

Healing the Wounds

I underwent nearly 15 years of psychotherapy in my journey on this earth.   Not all at one time, but over a period of 30 years or so.  I had trauma as many do.  I was broken within as many are.   There were psychic and emotional wounds.  I had a story that I published (Holy Love: A Memoir of Sorrow to Glory/on amazon). We all have a story.

The psychotherapy journey was useful in helping me to ‘tame’ and cognitively manage my reactions to life (to a degree).  Psychotherapy helped me to better understand myself and the filter through which I danced with life.  My relationships benefited somewhat. But, beyond a certain point I realized that ongoing psychotherapy was like mental masturbation.  That’s what I referred to it as because there was a pleasure and a near addiction to rewording and revisiting old and new wounds.

In 2009, when I discovered the gift that Jesus Christ offered me, I relinquished my attachment to my own story and the dramas I suffered and continued to fuel.  I ‘surrendered’ as many refer to this as.  This surrender allowed the Holy Spirit to step in and guide me as I journeyed on.

The wounds we experience and imprint into our souls always remain in darkened spaces within.  The aftermath of those wounds: the false thought outcomes, the dysfunctional (or not optimum) patterns of behavior, the incorrect conclusions about ourselves that influence our behavior and negatively impact our relationships; are all available for us to tame, should we choose to.  We have been blessed with a will so we can make the choice to turn to Christ as our holy counselor, and harness our will with His assistance to tame the beast, so to speak.

When I speak of ‘healing the wounds’ or ‘healing the lies’, I am in no way suggesting that this ‘healing’ means they dissolve and vanish from existence.  Healing does not offer us a spiritual ‘lobotomy’ of sorts, so that its as if they traumas and hurts never occurred and we no longer have scars.   We have memory.  We have recall as long as our brains are functioning. 

What healing may actually mean is that we have seen the lies.  We have gazed into that heart of darkness in our souls.  We can direct the cleansing light into the dark and we know where the enemy lurks.  It’s like looking into the eyes of the enemy and no longer contracting or cowering from its power.  With the strength of Christ within we can stand firm and defeat that enemy.  With Christ within we can subdue the enemy’s compulsion to resurrect itself and lash out at our psyche and control our minds and behavior.  With Christ within our hearts we can tame those errors in our thinking, so that we are in control of them rather than them being in control of us.      

You can learn more about my healing journey and the gift that Jesus offers on my book’s website www.jesmith-author.net.               

TRUST

JULY 6, 2021
TRUST
Sometimes I feel like I’m holding a little bird

Fragile yet certain.

Melding into my palm…delicate and restless.

Lucas is slowly sealing within himself the foundation of trust.

He allows me to stroke his satin skin and fine growing hair.

He slowly surrenders to slumber in my arms.

Head against my chest.

He is learning love.

Trust…once it permanently etches itself into his soul will allow him to learn to build

friendships and deeper relationships.

Yes, he will have to learn how to discern these relationships over his lifetime.

But for now, he simply receives the love of his family.

Sweet and indelible.

What a miracle to watch God’s plan in sweet slow-motion snippets of time.

GRANDMA LOVE

GRANDMA LOVE

August 2,2020

It goes beyond the love of the feel of his neck nestled against mine…or the look of his intense alert gaze at the trees and their sky…or his baby fragrance.

When I hold him, and gaze down at his slumber in my embrace, it’s like I’m holding the universe. Its infinite. Bottomless. No ending….no beginning. His presence in my arms reveals those who’s shoulders upon which he’ll eventually stand, and at the same time, the descendants who will stand upon his shoulders someday…long after I am gone.

Within my embrace lies both the sorrows and the glory of even my own life all wrapped up in one bundle.

The miracle of hope.

2 responses to “GRANDMA LOVE”

  1. Jill E. Smith

    testing

  2. Jill E. Smith

    this is a great article

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A GRANDMOTHER’S EYE VIEW

August 5,2021

He loves to look up at the sky and point to the birds. He’ll gaze upward looking for them and point when he sees them. I wonder what the birds see…or think…when they gaze below at a 14 month old little boy full of wonder.

What I see as I gaze down at him is simply blessing.

I get to spend 2 fun filled, laughter filled, exhausting filled and intense days per week with my grandson. I wanted this snapshot today from our dog walk excursion because I know that sometime soon (probably not so soon…but it will feel like soon) when he no longer needs his stroller.

So, I get to see his chubby little knees and blond head with his cowlick at the crown. He’s holding a flower because he ‘demands’ I pick ones now and then for him. He usually drops them somewhere along the way, but that doesn’t matter.

Lucas loves our dog walks. They’ve become part of our biweekly ritual. Children love ritual and routine…and he gets to see the world roll by with his grandma and 2 Scotties, Mackenzie and Angus.

For me, the photo provides an indelible memory of this sweet fleeting moments of his life. For him, my prayer is that love and security is etching it’s way deep into his soul. Over time, he most likely will not remember these morning strolls, but the love becomes sealed within his memory vault of images mixed with the hugs and unconditional acceptance that will define his character as he journeys on.

WE ARE BEING TESTED

September 26,2021

This I believe.

Our souls are being tested in a pivotal way at this time in history.

Humanity is sustained by relationships. Friendships. Familial ties, work associations and the friendships that result. There are the simple interactions at the bank or gas station. Its endless. This is the landscape where we practice and learn grace and mercy.

It is the substance within which love can manifest.

I know I’m not alone when I find myself judging and/ or silently critical of others. I am talking about the mask vs unmask or vx vs unvx conversations. While I won’t spell it out here…you know where I stand on these issues.

As I’ve said often enough: “I’d rather die on my feet than live on my knees”.

But with all that said, I am acutely aware that there is a war at play. In the theatre of this battle is the dark side’s intent to divide and thereby conquer.

Their goal?

To conquer the soul of not only America, but of all of humanity. Don’t doubt that. I’ll say it again…the goal of the dark side is to conquer the soul of all of humanity.

America stands in the crosshairs of this war. America will tip the balance. America’s destiny is to carry the banner of freedom and the glory of our one and only God.

Differing opinions and politics have always been a part of the landscape of our lives. Either we discuss these issues or not, depending on the strength of particular relationships or the mood of a particular gathering. But only occasionally would a personal relationship be thrown asunder by the diversity of thought or opinions.

Today however, it’s different. It is different because we are in a war (for real). Just because it’s not fought with guns and bombs being dropped from above…make no mistake…this is a war.

I believe that this is a final battle. Our freedom and liberty is the cost if we lose this war.

And, equally as important are the relationships we share with friends and family that are at risk of being collateral damage. It’s the love and connection and relative fluidity we used to share with others that is vulnerable now.

If life is a mighty river, then we existed together in that river. However, the times have drawn us to opposite sides of the river. We can still talk and interact, but our consciousness is aligned on one side or another. We can say that politics have done this. We can say that gender or race or religion has stationed us each on one side or another. The possibility of divisiveness is endless when the enemy is at play manipulating the landscape. Over the past couple of years, the river has become turbulent and now it rages. This has been the strategy of ‘the enemy’. The enemy has manipulated this landscape.

In the past we could cross over the river at will and return to our comfort zone at will…but not today. The enemy has seen to it that through its manipulation we risk too much to cross over. To carry the analogy further, the mist is salty and burns the eyes, the waves smack and sting and the turbulence promises to drown you in the drama and turmoil.

Make no mistake. This is by design. This is the intention of the enemy.

I’ll drive down a street and scoff at people wearing masks in their car, or outside on a sunny side of the street. I’ll cringe in anger at employees who demand I don a mask. My reactions to these annoyances are like a knee jerk reaction. A family member verbally assaults me for my decision about what to do with my own body and I might respond with anger (even silently to myself).

The river divides.

Energetically, dividing families and long-term friendships apart is what the enemy wants. When we settle into anger and judgement the enemy applauds. It empowers their mission.

Our anger is best served to be directed towards the real enemy who has manipulated all of humanity.

So, this is what I choose to practice daily now, and my hope is to inspire you to do the same. When a loved one makes me angry (metaphorically shouting from their side of the raging river), I choose to be angry at the enemy. When a stranger is foolish enough (in my opinion) to wear masks in the sunlight, I will choose mercy and patience over judgment and anger. And, I will choose to be angry at the ‘great manipulator’. And it is a practice…it is not mastered easily. And I am committed to mastering it.

Righteous anger is what we must arise to now. Righteous anger at the enemy whose evil intent is to divide us, is one of the calls to action. Righteous anger at the enemy who intends to fracture humanity’s potential to be in love. Practicing grace and in mercy in the service of the salvation of humanity is what we MUST choose now.

AN ANGEL MESSENGER (chapter 12)

SEPTEMBER 25,2021
 
EXCERPT FROM  HOLY LOVE: A MEMOIR OF SORROW TO GLORY
 

from an account of receiving a speeding ticket during my single parenting days)

….Then it happened. He did something that had never been done before. It was as if I was nudged into an altered state beyond my well-practiced ritual of receiving my speeding ticket so I could be on my way. He leaned over and peered into my car, making eye contact with me. I was stunned. My heart became my eyes for the first time in my life.

I know this sounds bizarre. However, all I can say is that our mere mortal minds cannot comprehend the idea of seeing with the heart. This is the only way I can describe the moment. I heard him with my heart as well.

His voice enveloped me: his gentle concern substantive and consuming. It was as if It wrapped itself around me in a down quilt. It had the depth of an ocean, yet the whisper of dawn. The sound of his voice caught me like a starving fish on a hook, except it was painless and felt like I was aching to be pulled into his net. He leaned over. I saw his face. He looked to be in his thirties, a handsome man. His face was exquisite as his eyes met mine.

That was the moment that my heart became my eyes. To say that he had blue eyes does not begin to do them justice. They drew me in so that nothing else existed at that moment but the shade of blue. His eyes were a shade of blue-green that I’d never seen before.

It was as if his eyes spoke at that moment, and my heart heard the words and my soul listened as he said, “Please, don’t speed. Somebody is going to get hurt”. That’s all he said, yet it was one of those God-stopping moment of my life.

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IT’S A “HURTIN’ THING” Chapter 4

EXCERPT FROM MY UPCOMING BOOK: HOLY LOVE: A MEMOIR OF SORROW TO GLORY
 

Walking to Wiley’s market like two big girls, on those warm, sultry summer days holds a sacred place in my memory. I recall balmy walks with my sister in Indian summers as we crunched through the colorful leaves on our mission to the corner store. We’d make acorn rings and play hopscotch for hours. The smells of fallen leaves on the sidewalk in autumn are savory imprints in my mind.

These memories belong to Lee as well. She was as present at the rising sun.

Lee’s imprint in my memory is indelible. My father had hired her to work two to three days a week. It could have been every day early on—I don’t recall exactly. I do recall that she was always home in the family room ironing with the television on when I’d return home from school. While I could never predict if my mother would be home when I returned, I always knew that I’d find Lee there.

She was my rock to stand on in the days of my youth.

BORN INTO DECEIT (Chapter 2)

 
 
Excerpt from my upcoming book: Holy Love: A Memoir of Sorrow to Glory.
 
 
 

Jesus’ love for us is like a hot ember planted within our hearts at conception. I tucked mine away for “safekeeping” for most of my life. Looking back, I wonder if my gnawing discontent was due to a yearning for something I couldn’t have.

Was it that innocent, childlike joy, and sweet contentment that is the seed of love for a family, or was it actually the love of Jesus that I tucked away and longed for?

Maybe God designed children’s innocence for the purpose of knowing Him in all His purity and holiness. His touch on our souls and inside His Holy DNA are the secrets to an eternal craving.

It’s a yearning that only He can satisfy.

MIRACLE AT MONTEBELLO (Chapter 8)

Excerpt from–Holy Love: A Memoir of Sorrow to Glory

(Account of an incident that occured over 30 years ago during my nursing career)

 

I entered the room and sat in a chair about ten feet from her. I didn’t even tell her I was there. She appeared to be asleep, if not unconscious. I only wanted to finish my work and intended to stay briefly. She was to be discharged the next morning, and I wanted to leave the guilt behind and let her be, so that when I returned on Monday, she’d be gone and I could pretend she never happened.

God had other plans.

As I sat there, I began to feel the weight of my own body. I attributed it at first to my second-trimester pregnancy and the fatigue of a long week. I’m not sure how much time had gone by, possibly fifteen minutes, when the hospital clergyman and his assistant walked in to do rounds. He nodded at me and walked over to the sleeping woman and prayed over her. I don’t recall the prayer, but it was a prayer that sounded familiar to me. He left with another nod to me, and there I sat. I felt increasingly restless to leave the room but became acutely aware of feeling a weight upon my shoulders, as if I were being held down. I literally felt unable to lift myself off the chair.

Time ticked by. It felt as if an hour passed, when suddenly out of the silence, the patient spoke. Without turning her head in my direction and with her eyes still closed she said, “Jill, I can’t go home tomorrow. I’m too sick.”

I didn’t think she was even aware that I was in the room! To say I was shocked is an understatement. I jumped out of my chair and ran over to her bedside and hugged her, promising her I’d take care of it. I was euphoric as I literally ran down the hall to the doctor’s office. I told him he had to cancel the discharge order because she requested to stay. My euphoria was on her behalf, but even more powerful was the experience of being involved in God’s work. I was not yet a believer. I considered myself to be spiritual, but I had no personal relationship or intimacy with God. He had used me nevertheless, and I knew it!

When I returned on Monday, she was gone. She had died that weekend in her clean hospital bed, with peace and with dignity. I’d often wonder if the vigil I had felt required to perform that Friday afternoon had actually provided the space for her to reconcile her life to God, and allow herself to die.

It was one of many miracles to come.