Mom was on a roll tonight and reminisced about the time when I was four years old that I held a conversation with Jesus, whom I called "the Sign".
"It was in the hall of the big house on Pershing Street. Mother came across you standing in the hall staring intently at something she could not see, talking, conversing really, with him. When she questioned you about it afterward, you described a man in a white robe with a long, flowing beard.
The description fit the one then in vogue for Jesus. Mother came and told me that my daughter was carrying on a conversation with Jesus. I've heard the talking with Jesus part of the story ever since I can remember, but if she ever filled in more detail as she did tonight, I don't remember it.
Now I want her to read this and see if I have all of what she remembers, and have it right. The urge to do so was SO STRONG that I had the phone in my hand before I checked the time... :-)