My husband and I were spending the weekend in the historical resort town of St. Augustine, Florida, one of my very favorite places in the world. 

On Saturday morning (we didn't know that George had died the night before) we went shopping at The Oldest Drug Store.  I was naturally attracted to their Precious Moments figurines, as I am a collector.

I was drawn to one specific figurine and picked it up to examine.  I admired it, then put it down and moved on.  But I couldn't get it out of my mind.  Suddenly, the oddest thing happened.  My mind went completely blank and I couldn't remember anything about the figurine.  "Was it an angel?"  I thought blankly.  I returned to the figurine and picked it up again.  Satisfied that it was an angel, I again moved on.  But--another eerie blackout--and I wondered,  "Were those wings?"  I picked it up again, bewildered by the strangeness of what was happening, and closely examined the piece.  It depicted a small boy hitchhiking, holding a sign that read "Going Home."  An angel in a car was stopping to pick up the little hitchhiker.  The license plates on the angel's car read "Heaven Bound."

A psychologist once told me that he had never seen anyone else so effective at mentally blocking out things that I did not want to deal with.  Evidently I was attempting to block out God's gentle announcement of George's death.

Later I learned that my mother had visited a gift shop in Live Oak, Florida that same morning.  She, too, had been curiously attracted to the identical figurine.

George and his sister Anna had visited me for several days in November, 1990.  While they were there, they went with me to the Wednesday night service at the little church I attended. 

After the service Anna and I were talking with the other church members when I noticed that George was not with us.  I looked around and saw him sitting on the back pew engaged in earnest conversation with the pastor.  The pastor had his Bible open, explaining scriptures to George.  Then someone spoke to me and, distracted, I continued introducing Anna around.

Suddenly George and the pastor were by my side, beaming, as they told me that George had committed his life to Jesus. 

George spent a lot of time with my parents the next two days, discussing God and the Bible.  Mom and Dad were both Christians who had walked closely with the Lord for many years.  They recognized that George had experienced a genuine conversion to Christ.

Mom gave him a book entitled Angels on Assignment.   The book was an in-depth look at how God has used angels down through the ages to minister to and protect His people.  It also presented God's complete plan of salvation, even explaining how the Old Testament Feasts foreshadowed and portrayed Christ's redemption.

It also included an illustration that I will never forget.  It showed a figure surrounded by sin, with the caption "What we see."  It then showed a canopy representing the Blood of Jesus completely covering the stick figure and his sin.  Then it read, "What God sees," and showed the view from Heaven--a bright covering which represented the righteousness of Christ.

I gave George a Bible in which I had underlined my favorite salvation and assurance passages.  Since I knew that it might be a long time before I saw him again, I also wrote all the practical Christian advice I could think of on the blank pages in the back.  The only item that I can recall now is, "Keep your eyes on God, and not on man.  Man will always disappoint you. God never will."

When George's Dad opened his suitcase after he died, there was no Bible inside.  George had dyslexia.  Reading the King James Version must have been very difficult for him.  However, right on top of his clothing was a dog-eared, well-worn copy of Angels on Assignment.

After George's death, my mother told me that during his and Anna's last visit, she had a profound sense that she would not see one of them again, but she was unable to determine which one.  She assumed it was Anna, as she was in the Army and had just received orders to Germany.

In the months following George's death, I worried about whether or not he had really gone to Heaven.   I remembered the figurine I had seen in St. Augustine. In fact, one of my sisters later bought it for me.  It was only then that I learned its history. The artist, Samuel J. Butcher, had created it after his own young son had died.

But I knew that George hadn't lived a spotless Christian life.  So I still wondered if he had really gone to Heaven.  Then one day, God spoke unmistakably to my spirit, "To whom much is given, much will be required.  To whom little is given, little will be required."  George had certainly been given very little in the way of spiritual instruction.  Therefore, I realized that God would require little of him.  I was comforted.

However, I still wasn't sure.  Then I got a phone call from Anna.  She had just spoken to George's dearest friend, Jimmy.  Jimmy told her that he used to tease George about being a Bible thumper, because he always wanted to talk about the Bible.  I was elated as I recalled the verse, "Out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks."

Months passed.  Occasionally I would still ask, "God, is George really in Heaven with you?"

My answer came unexpectedly.  I was reading Billy Graham's book, Angels.  In the chapter on the death angel, I read, "Death for the Christian cuts the cord that holds us captive in this present evil world so that angels may transport believers to their heavenly inheritance."

Suddenly I was caught up into a strange, rushing silence.  Time stood still.  The words leaped off the page in bold print. Then clearly, unmistakably, I heard God say to me,  "That is what happened to George."

There have been no more supernatural assurances since then.  None are needed.  I am now absolutely certain, beyond any shadow of doubt, that George is secure in the eternal, loving presence of his Heavenly Father.

And all thy children shall be taught of the Lord,
and great shall be the peace of thy children.
Isaiah 54:13




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