Page 341 - The Story of My Lif
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was much perplexed, saying, “I did not know life could come back into the dead

               body!”




               One day she said, sadly: “I am blind and deaf. That is why I cannot see God.” I
               taught her the word INVISIBLE, and told her we could not see God with our
               eyes, because He was a spirit; but that when our hearts were full of goodness and
               gentleness, then we saw Him because then we were more like Him.





               At another time she asked, “What is a soul?” “No one knows what the soul is
               like,” I replied; “but we know that it is not the body, and it is that part of us
               which thinks and loves and hopes, and which Christian people believe will live
               on after the body is dead.” I then asked her, “Can you think of your soul as
               separate from your body?” “Oh, yes!” she replied; “because last hour I was

               thinking very hard of Mr. Anagnos, and then my mind,”—then changing the
               word—“my soul was in Athens, but my body was here in the study.” At this
               moment another thought seemed to flash through her mind, and she added, “But
               Mr. Anagnos did not speak to my soul.” I explained to her that the soul, too, is
               invisible, or in other words, that it is without apparent form. “But if I write what
               my soul thinks,” she said, “then it will be visible, and the words will be its
               body.”





               A long time ago Helen said to me, “I would like to live sixteen hundred years.”
               When asked if she would not like to live ALWAYS


               in a beautiful country called heaven, her first question was, “Where is heaven?” I
               was obliged to confess that I did not know, but suggested that it might be on one
               of the stars. A moment after she said, “Will you please go first and tell me all
               about it?” and then she added, “Tuscumbia is a very beautiful little town.” It was
               more than a year before she alluded to the subject again, and when she did return
               to it, her questions were numerous and persistent. She asked: “Where is heaven,
               and what is it like?


               Why cannot we know as much about heaven as we do about foreign countries?”
               I told her in very simple language that there may be many places called heaven,
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