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A Grain of Mustard – by Jeanne Gardner as told to Beatrice Moore

Grandma knew she was leaving us, and she was prepared to go. Still, each day she prayed, "Dear Lord, please put my house in order."

On April 12, 1965, I was visiting this darling old lady, along with other members of my family.

Suddenly she began to speak. "I have to get ready to go now," she stated.

 "Where are you going, Grandma?" I asked with childlike interest. Putting my question aside, Grandma went on. "He got me a cake."

"Who got you a cake?"

Grandma answered me patiently. "My husband has a cake for me, and I have to go help him eat it."

"What kind of a cake is it, Grandma?" I questioned with the same good humor.

"It's a long flat cake, and it's pretty, Jeanne. But you can't have any now, child. My husband has it for me, where I'm going."

There was one person in the room who couldn't contain herself. "The old lady's out of her head," she insisted.

I knew better.

That evening when I went home, I asked the Voice when Grandma would be taken, and it answered, “Two by two at eight."

Grandma died at eight o'clock on April 22. Her birthday was April 28, so that cake she had described was her birthday cake, and the reason she told me I could have none was because she knew where she was going to have it.

She was buried in the dainty blue gown described by the Voice, and before she left us, her sons returned. At last "her house was in order."