Visions Of The Holy In Ordinary Lives
Ruth F. Piotter
One day, exactly ten months after my husband, Paul, died, I was standing in an open area outdoors and saw three figures approaching me, walking very briskly. When they got closer, I recognized them to be Paul and both of my parents. My father died in 1937, my mother in 1966. My father had white hair, but was very spry, and my mother now had dark hair, which I hardly remember her having. Paul looked like he did when he was ready to play tennis in college. They wore regular clothes, but had new bodies unencumbered by any physical problems.