Five years ago, when my daughter was in high school, it was my pleasure every morning to get up early and prepare breakfast for the two of us, then make a little lunch basket for her, and then bid her good-bye as she went off to school. Well, this morning, after she went off to school, I went back to my library where I’m reading my Bible because my wife slept late and we would meet at brunch. This morning, when she came out and we were having brunch, she said, “I had the strangest experience this morning. I woke, I was sitting up in bed, you were sitting on the bed, and then my hand was engaged with another hand. You turned—I couldn’t see the face who had the hand—but you turned, and you evidently recognized him. You seemed to know him quite intimately and you said to me, ‘Why, it is death.’ Then I said to you, ‘I don’t want to die.’” Then I said to her, “Are you afraid to die?” She said, “No, I’m not afraid to die, but I have unfinished business. I don’t want to die.” I said, “All right, if you are not afraid to die, all right.” Then the two hands disengaged, and as they disengaged, she then began… she thought she was sitting on the bed, she thought I was sitting on the bed next to her, and then she came to. This was an experience in the depths of her soul where death was personified as the cold hand of death. Haven’t you heard it? Haven’t you heard of the king of terrors, the jaws of death? All poets use it. And here she had the experience of an actual hand, the hand of death, that I, sitting on the bed, in the depth of her soul, recognized him, and I knew him quite intimately. Being not afraid of death, I asked her, “Are you afraid of him?” She said, “No, I’m not afraid to die. But I don’t want to die. I have unfinished business.” At that moment, when she didn’t feel afraid of death, the two hands disengaged, and then she woke. [...]. And I was not in the room; I was in my library reading my Bible.135 ¶12