woke me up. I heard Rano's shocked voice. A woman was there demanding to see Baba. She had seen Him at Mrs. Duce's and Baba had said, "You won't see Me again for 700 years." She went home and brooded over it. Now she was challenging Baba's word. Three times Rano brought the message Baba would not see her. Finally, He said He would see her for two minutes, but she must remain silent. I was quite stunned by the whole thing. This person had a great deal of trouble in her life afterwards. You just don't challenge Perfect Ones.

Finally all were ready to leave. Marion was driving Baba and the women to the airport. The men mandali were leaving in other cars. Somehow this parting wasn't as bad as the first in Myrtle Beach. There was hope — Baba had said He would come again to the West, "God willing." The previous day I had unfolded a gift for His home at the Center — a bedspread I had hand-painted with the same five symbols of the great world religions as those on His tomb: A torch, for Zoroastrianism, an OM symbol for Hinduism, a cross for Judeo-Christianity, a lotus and wheel for Buddhism, and a star/crescent for Islam. Baba was pleased with the gift, handed it to Elizabeth, and said, "Keep it until I come again — God willing."

After He was gone, Mrs. Ferris, I, and the two servants set to work like whirlwinds. Mrs. Ferris wanted everything back in its place — by noon! Mr. Ferris was to come by. If I hadn't been so "stoked" on Baba, I think I would have collapsed. All the borrowed beds, dishes, fans, linens, what not, plus all the stuff people had brought Baba — and people bring Baba extraordinary gifts — had to be taken away. Baba said I should keep everything I'd had to buy for Him. Most treasured were the dime-store dishes He had used.

But the first thing I wanted to do was sit on Baba's bed. Mrs. Ferris shooed me off. That was "sacrilegious!" Nevertheless, I took back the blanket Baba had slept on for two weeks, it was my blanket. Looking back on it, I'm glad Kate wouldn't let me sit on His bed. There were tremendous vibrations of His suffering in the room where He had slept. But all that was left of His physical presence were half a glass of water, a jar of prune juice, and an X-ray of His broken leg in the waste basket. Working so frantically to get the house back in order was good for my nerves. I would have sat down and cried. I couldn't believe it — but I was back on the train to New York, and that silly job, by 2:30.

God — Baba — was out somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, not to be seen again in America until 1956. He had come, He had shed His blood on our soil, and His love on our hearts. I had gone through the supreme experience of my life. I had met God in human form. May it happen again, and again, to all of us. JAI BABA!