The woman in white

featherToday at the cafe, I had just finished my day’s writing – the culmination of a two-day ‘download’ of a stream of consciousness, a sort of guided message, which seemed to be speaking a five-week spiritual training program through my pen – when I heard a woman ask, “So you believe in miracles?”

I was surprised – cuz, like, how did she know? –  and I  turned.

She was standing behind me, and the first thing I noticed was that everything she was wearing was white: white jeans, a white fitted tee, white socks. Her hair was white blond. Even her shopping bags – and there were several: from Chico’s, Banana Republic… – were white. Except for her sneakers, which were black; and her straw hat.

She had a warm and welcoming presence – but she wasn’t overly friendly- as she gestured to the book I’d left open on my table: A Course in Miracles. “Ohhhh” I said, understanding now why she’d asked that question. “Yes, I believe in miracles.”

Nodding, she asked, “And are you a teacher of that course – of miracles?”

This question surprised me again – in fact, it sent a chill up my spine – because the very passage I’d been reading – the ONLY passage I’d read of The Course in years, was entitled, The characteristics of God’s teachers. And more surprising, even that was strange. For I’d never really read A Course in Miracles, not entirely. I’d tried but it was so dense and required so many days of practice that I’d become bored with it and set it down … many times.

And so just this morning, when I passed it on the shelf and noticed it glowing from the shelf, I remember thinking: really? but that same voice which has been dictating the training program to me – whispered, Read it backwards.

And when I opened to the last pages, I found, The Characteristics of God’s Teachers. Was the ‘voice’ saying that I was one of God’s teachers? I thought. I took the book to the cafe, and read it backwards, between bursts of writing.

And so, when the woman in white asked me after thinking: Well, I do teach about miracles even though I don’t teach THAT particular course, I decided to keep it simple. “Yes,” I answered.

“And where do you teach?” (Again, surprised. By her forthrightness, which began to feel almost pushy. What did she want?)

“Online,” I said.

“That’s wonderful,” she said. “So you teach that course?’

“Well, yes,” I responded. “but not exactly. I mean… I teach my own material. My own work.”

“Oh,” she smiled. “And what is your work called?”

Well, what in the world would I say now? As the woman in white stood there, remarkably patiently, I have to say, I fumbled around inside of myself for a name for this program, which had just, moments earlier, poured through me onto the page. What WAS it called? I wondered.

It felt ‘wrong’ to me to just make up a name – and I hesitated. Plus, naming the program and speaking the name out loud would make all of this real and I wasn’t completely ready…

And suddenly, with all of that swirling in my head – along with my genuine concern that if she asked me: What’s it about? I would have to come up with the ‘elevator speech’ version of this crazy and wild work on the spot – I blurted, “The Soul Caller Training.”

“Good name,” she said, and then, she returned to her lobster salad sandwich.

I blinked. I looked down at my work. I glanced back up at her… more than a few times.  I felt oddly connected to her, while at the same time, oddly cut off – and I tried to strike up the conversation again, offering her the ACIM book to read.

”No thank you,” she smiled. Then, she gathered up her shopping bags and walked toward the parking lot. “Goodbye,” she waved.

I watched her like a hawk.

I have written hundreds – and read thousands – of stories about mysterious strangers who engage with someone, deliver important guidance, information; life-altering advice or life-saving support and then, once their task is complete, they disappear without a trace.

In this story, what would be life-altering wasn’t her words – it would be her presence. If this woman was an embodied angel – and she really could have been – that would be so much fun.

Because I know that these stories are true. I know that angels show up all over the place – why not a little cafe in northern New Jersey? And for that matter, why not for ME?

In the stories that I’ve read, these helpful and mysterious strangers behave in ways that telegraph some kind of ‘difference’ that alerts us that this person is ever so slightly … um… unusual. Perhaps they read someone’s mind; perhaps they say our name, when there is no way they might know our name. Perhaps, as in this story, they are dressed unusually – and they engage us in a discussion that answers a question we need answered.

I wanted to see what would happen. If she was an angel, how would she disappear?

She stopped at her car, a white family van – either Mercedes or Lincoln – loaded her things into the hatchback. Climbed in, and began to back out of her parking spot.

I only glanced away for a second. I swear. I looked down to catch the papers that had fluttered up in a sudden breeze. And of course, when I looked up, her car was gone.

I was left, like all the other people reporting such incidents with both the certainty and the doubt that accompanies such encounters.

  • Was she sent to deliver a message or was it a coincidence?
  • Had her car disappeared into thin air or had she pulled around a corner and driven out of an exit I could not see?
  • Had she been an angel or a nice older woman, interested in life, in the cover of a book she saw on my cafe table?
  • If she wasn’t an angel, does our conversation ‘count’?

The answers to all of these questions is the same: Yes.

Anyone can deliver a message from The Divine.  The only thing that matters is that we keep asking questions, and listening for the answers.

{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }

Susan T. Blake



Rai Muhammad Azlan

it happens many times that someone meets you for few minutes but you never forget those people and those few minutes. it happened to me many times that i get to meet at talk to people specially in train and many times those 20-30 minutes become memorable.



Thank you so much for sharing – I loved reading this. I’m just starting to loosen my ideas about “guides” “angels” “God”… even stumbling upon this post has a ring of serendipity to it. And the eerie / helpfulness of the encounter came through in your writing.

“The answers to all of these questions is the same: Yes.” YAY!



Amy, I have a question for you after reading this. Two years ago this summer I had an “encounter” with a man who needed my help. I was going for a walk with a friend around a pond when I saw a kayaker struggling. He had overturned his boat and was holding on to it (so seemed safe) but he wasn’t trying to swim to shore. So I called out to him and asked if he needed help. He said yes, so I stripped down to pants and sports bra and jumped in the water. When I got to his boat, I found out that he had a puppy with him, and the puppy had fallen in the water. He didn’t know how to help himself for fear of having the puppy drown. He’d lost his oars and was like a little child, completely helpless. I ended up dragging the kayak with him and the dog to the shore, we climbed out, he hugged me and we went our separate ways. There was something about his appearance that was so innocent – he was probably in his 60’s but had the eyes of a child, so clear and so young. To this day I have the strong feeling that he was a bit out of this world, but I dont’ know what the message might be. I was a mess for about a day feeling this huge responsibility, then I spent an hour with watercolors painting the lake whole again. On the bottom of the picture I painted some yellow flowers to break up the monotony of the greens and blues of water and trees. When my friend saw the painting, she commented that the yellow was the man, the flowers were exactly where he had been looking from the shore, and that this was his light. I still don’t know what to make of the experience and would love to hear any thoughts you (or anyone else) may have.
Thanks, Kirsten



When I work with an experience like this, I find it helpful to translate it into a dream. What dream symbols emerge? The man with eyes of a child, struggling. The overturned boat without oars. The puppy, fallen into the water. What else? If you look at it this way, what might it have been telling you about that time in your life? (What, through the painting, might you have been trying to tell yourself?)

A few other dream clues to consider:
“The monotony of the greens and blues of water and trees.”
“I don’t know what the message might be.”
“I was a mess, feeling this huge responsibility.” (I’d query this. Why were you a mess when clearly you’d helped him and all was well? Dig here.)



Amy, I love this story about nailing down the name of your service. It is just perfect. Your description of the woman in white was divine! I want to thank you for the gift of your words.



And I thank you for the gift of your presence- reading my words. :)


Farnaz Wallace

Amy, thanks for finding this great way to share your spiritual stories and sage wisdom. Bravo!!


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