After my husband, Greg, headed to bed, I settled into the couch to watch TV. My thoughts turned to my son, Eric, who had died unexpectedly at 19 years old from heart failure. I missed him every day. Usually, I say my evening prayers in bed, but I felt compelled to do them in the living room. God, please say hi to Eric for me, I finished. I noticed something on the mantel. A white feather, upright, underneath a new photo of Greg and me with our dog. It was as if the feather had been placed there. I’d never seen one like that in our home before. The next morning, I asked Greg if he’d noticed it. “I looked at that photo on the way to bed last night,” he said. “There was no feather there.” I still don’t know how that feather got there, but I know what it meant. A sign from God to our family, reminding us that we are all still connected. —Adrienne Matthews, West Bloomfield, Michigan
I sat on the back porch, watching the sun set, feeling more and more anxious. Ever since my husband, Jerry, had been diagnosed with lung cancer, my mind began to race at sundown, my thoughts turning dark. I had to stay strong for Jerry, but how could I if I kept on like this? I decided to take a drive to calm myself. “God, please give me the courage I need to be there for my husband,” I prayed, grabbing my car keys. On the way home, I skipped our turnoff. Something told me to keep driving. The sunset came back into view—and something else. A few wispy clouds were forming a shape. I pulled over and watched the clouds create a perfect arrow. Psalm 91:5 flew into my head: “Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day.” I snapped a picture to show Jerry. My husband’s cancer treatment was a success. He’s now cancer-free. It was a hard journey, but thanks to that perfect arrow, I knew that in the darkness, in my most anxious moments, I was never alone. —Anne Higginbotham, Valley Mills, Texas
Seventy-year-old machinist Gino Amicucci has lived in Yonkers, New York, for most of his life. He usually drives the same routes around town. Except for one day last September, when he opted for a new shortcut. Turning down an unfamiliar street, Gino thought of his late brother-in-law. Angelo would be missed at Gino’s upcoming fiftieth wedding anniversary party. Gino had been looking forward to catching up with him there. Maybe even showing Angelo, who was a mason and handyman, a shelf Gino was building for the backyard shed—his latest home improvement project. But a few weeks earlier, Angelo had passed away from skin cancer at age 84. Something suddenly caught Gino’s eye. A piece of plywood sitting on the curb, just about the right size for his shelf. He pulled over and grabbed it—and couldn’t believe what he saw. There, on the wood, was Angelo’s unmistakable signature. The board must’ve come from one of his projects! Gino tucked it safely in his car and headed home to show his wife. The celebration wouldn’t be the same without Angelo— but now it felt as if a piece of him would be there after all. And the board? It was a perfect fit. —Andrew Kessel, Editorial Intern
I once saw a quote online that read: “And the moon said to me, ‘My darling daughter, you do not have to be whole in order to shine.’” I often returned to that quote for comfort. I’d been struggling with negative thoughts about myself, fighting the feeling that I was not living up to my full potential. One morning, I felt especially down. I decided to go for a walk to clear my head. It didn’t help much. Then I saw something on the ground. It was a plastic party decoration—in the shape of a moon! Immediately, I thought of that quote. After all, even a crescent moon reflects the sun. I picked up the decoration and took it home, a reminder that even when I’m not whole, God’s light still shines through me. —Allison Wilson Lee, Belle Isle, Florida
David, my late husband of 34 years, had many talents—he was an outdoorsman and musician—but carpentry was his true gift. David could make anything out of wood and even used up the scraps left from bigger projects. One of his creations was a cedar tree trunk he’d cut into slices, with both the bark and the tree rings visible. After he passed, I used the pieces as decorations around the house: little reminders of our love. One day, I put my favorite piece out on the deck railing to polish. Before I could get to it, a heavy storm swept through the neighborhood. David’s tree slice blew off the railing and broke apart on the ground. I held back tears as I cleaned up the splintered wood. Then I noticed a large portion had remained intact. I picked it up. A perfectly shaped heart! Though it had a small crack down the middle, it remained whole. Still connected. Just like David and me. —Kay Campbell, Rock Hill, South Carolina
My family raises livestock on a 1,500-acre ranch in Oregon. We have cows, llamas, donkeys and horses. The past few years have been tough due to “water wars.” Our ranch is in an area that requires irrigation. But the state is planning to cut our water supply—the groundwater irrigation wells and creeks. Things have been tough, to say the least, and don’t look as if they’ll get better anytime soon. Our ranch may be one of many to go out of business in the near future. One sunny afternoon this past May, I made my way to our back porch for lunch. I sat on the swing set, gazing out at our beautiful land, the fields I’d grown up on. Knowing one day everything might be gone. Just then, I saw something move beneath my feet. I leaned down for a closer look and gasped. Five carpenter ants had gathered in the most amazing formation: a cross! I snapped a photo. A reminder of God’s presence. No matter what happens, he will always be with me. —Susan Topham, Sprague River, Oregon
At my mother’s yesterday, we decided to sit outside to soak up some sunshine. I wanted to enjoy every minute I had left with her. We got to talking about how much God loves us. “If he cares for every little bird, just think how much he cares for us,” I said. “He even knows the number of hairs on our heads!” Mom looked at me and nodded. “And every feather counted!” she said, pointing to the sky. I looked up, and this is what I saw. —Mary Whitney, Leavittsburg, Ohio
True Stories of Transformation from Near-Death Experiences
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