Article July 1, 1985 Issue

Who are you?

DOROTHY A. J. WOODRUFF

One Halloween, when our daughter was about four years old, she had chosen a witch costume—tall hat, clawed gloves, and a mask with psychedelic green eyes and fang teeth. She could hardly wait to wear it.

But on Halloween night it was pouring rain, and she appeared to have a heavy cold; so I decided not to let her go out gathering candy from door to door, as was the custom for the children in our neighborhood. She was heartbroken until I told her she could put on her costume and wear it around the house. Not long after, she was dancing around, uttering awful squeals.

As I watched, the angel thought came to me, "She looks like a witch; she sounds like a witch; she's acting like a witch. But she isn't. And I don't identify her that way because I know what is true. She is still her sweet self, untouched by fangs or claws. More important, she is at this moment God's perfect child, untouched by material so-called laws of disease." I saw I had to identify her correctly, spiritually.

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