The first time Nan told me the story of the cross in the stone, I smiled and thought her quaint.

Angry at her family and desperate to change herself, my friend cried in the gray drizzle on a beach in Nova Scotia and looked heavenward: "Please just show Yourself to me." Seating herself on a large rock, she dug with her hands and found a stone. "There was a perfect cross on both sides. I held it. It held me. We went together to find my husband. I asked his forgiveness for my stony heart. ... His response: 'Let's all go out for a nice hot lobster dinner.'"

I have really had only one question in the last 40 years: How involved does God mean to be in our lives before Christ's return? What is His way with us?

Letter from a Texas inmate: "Dear Andrée. ... The other night I ... was getting ready for bed. My cellie was in his bed with his headphones on and couldn't hear a thing I said, or just barely, because when I said good night he removed one side of his headset and asked what I said. I repeated the good night and climbed into my bunk. I went into prayer and asked the Lord if he could, if he would, let me know sometime that he loves me, like he does Kenneth Copeland and Jessie Duplantis. I had no sooner made the request and my roommate said these words, 'You don't know what it's like, you don't know what it's like, to love somebody, to love somebody, the way I love you.'"

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