In the Arms of God

Just before I left for India in January this year, Linda, a reporter in my office, told me that her niece, a charming young girl of 16, had died suddenly in December of an asthmatic attack. She had been watching television with her mother at the time of the attack. Just two hours later she was dead. Both Linda (my reporter friend) and her sister’s family were devastated.

I had never really spoken to Linda about Sai Baba but felt obliged to ask her if she would like to give me a letter asking Him for help. I gave her an article to read about Swami that had recently appeared in the The Economist, and I had mentioned to her a couple of things about Him; but other than that, she really didn’t know a thing. Nevertheless, she wrote a touching note.

At first, she asked Baba to “say a prayer” for her young niece. But I told Linda that odd as it may seem, Baba wouldn’t say a prayer. He would answer it, if the request was sincere and genuine and warranted a response. So, I told her that she should try asking for something specific.

She changed the letter and asked Baba if He could give a “clear sign” that Elizabeth was “safe and warm and with those who love her, way she was loved when she was alive,” and she thanked Swami for His kind attention. It was a very sweet note. I managed to get the letter to Baba (through a very helpful devotee in the first row) soon after I arrived.

The Monday after I returned home, Linda came into my office and said she wanted to tell me something. On Saturday her sister who lives in Wyoming had called her on the phone and told her this story.

The preceding Monday (which was the day I had left India, only a week or so after giving Baba the letter) the sister was driving to work. The road she travels on goes through a certain area that gives her visibility of about 15 miles in all directions—there were black storm clouds rolling overhead as far as she could see. It seemed as if there would be a downpour any moment. This was a particularly bad day for her with regard to her daughter. She was, in fact, “screaming her name in the car.” But as soon as she went over a small hill, she saw the clouds turned to “pink and purple” and one cloud clearly spelt out Lizz, her daughter’s name, just the way she spelt it, with two z’s.

She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She pulled over to the side of the road and got out of the car. As she stared at her daughter’s name in the sky, “three more clouds rolled by: one in the shape of an eagle, one in the shape of a wolf, and one in the shape of an angel. The eagle and the wolf had special significance for her. In school, Lizzy had been part of an eagle-tracking club. After she passed away the club had found an eagle on the ground. They had the eagle stuffed and mounted and had a Plaque fixed under it, with the inscription, “ln loving memory of Elizabeth.” As for the wolf she and Lizzy had been members of an organization in Wyoming that adopts and takes care of stray wolves. Then, of course, there was the angel—a heavenly indication that her daughter was more than just all right.

“She got back into the car, drove a while, but then stopped again when she remembered that her sister had given someone at work a letter to give to a holy man in India asking for a “a clear sign’ that her daughter was all right. Linda said that for about 15 minutes there was a stunned silence on the phone.

Linda reported that her sister felt very much better afterwards. After l assured her that was undoubtedly Swami’s reply, she very promptly wrote Him a “Thank You” letter. Wouldn’t you.

~Richard Margolin
Manhattan, New York, USA