(First I will give to you the revelation and then, will supply the teaching notes for this revelation in the section TEACHING).

This experience in the spiritual realm takes place in heaven right after I first arrived. I was sitting down by a clear stream at the time.

THE SANDPILE

When I returned to look at the water, another face was looking into the stream with me.

“Hello,” a child’s voice said.

I turned and sat up to face her.

“Are you on tour?” she asked.

“Yes,” I answered, staring at her.

She appeared to be a child of about five or six years old, but she was shining. She had no wings, and her eyes looked old beyond the years displayed in her small stature. She wore a pale calico pinafore over a faintly colored, short shift. Her hair was curly and tousled as if from play. She looked like a little girl, but every so often I could see through her arm or leg and knew her to be a spirit. She was intriguing.

“Have you just begun the tour?” she questioned.

“Yes, I think so. Why?” I asked.

“I wanted you to come play with me,” she said.

“Play with you?” I said incredulously.

“In my sandpile,” she said. “Can you come?”

Just then the tour guide walked over to us, and I stood. I was torn between getting to know this small spirit and continuing my tour.

“May I go with…what is your name?” I asked her, bending over to question her as one might question a child.

“Crystal Clear”1

“May I go with Crystal Clear for a few minutes?” I asked the tour guide.

“Oh, all right,” he said. “Meet us at the almond grove when you finish.”

“How will I find it?” I asked.

“Crystal Clear will show you the way.”

“Yes, I will,” she said excitedly. “Come along with me.”

Suddenly we were on a vast shore line, but there was no sea.2 It looked as though the beach was still there, but no ocean. In the sand were all manner of red and blue children’s buckets and shovels.

She continued to speak: “Haven’t you always wanted to build a sandcastle?”3

I chuckled, “Well, not really, Crystal Clear.”

“Yes, you have,” she said. “Think about it. You’ve wanted to build on Earth, and all of that is sand.4 When the tide comes in, it goes away. Even the tools for building remain longer than a sandcastle, for the tools are from God. But if you use them to build on sand instead of in eternity, what do you have? A waste of time,” she shrugged. “You have wanted a sandcastle. It’s silly really, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so,” I said quietly. I did not want to admit it, but she was right. I had wanted a home and financial security and to accomplish something—for God, of course—but I had tunnel vision for the life on Earth. I had Christianized the gospel of the world and bought into my own packaging. It was a bitter thing to hear that the focus of my life had been fleshly and worthless to God and that I had not gotten away with it.5

“Do you want to play?” she continued cheerily.

I felt a little sick. I thought I would change the subject. “Why such a large sand area?” I asked.

“Many want to build on sand, so we let them. It gets it out of their systems, you know. Maybe if you build on the sand right now you would feel, ‘I’ve done that.’”

“It seems a silly thing to do,” I said stonily.

“Well, yes it does. However, building on earth is really the same: silly toys that are long forgotten here, toys that do not even gather dust in the attic but disintegrate and are totally forgotten here—a waste of God’s precious time,’’ she said much too breezily.

I had the taste of a copper penny in my mouth.6 “Is it all right if we do not play today?” I asked.

“Oh, all right,” she said. “Do you want to join the tour?”

“I don’t know,” I said dazed. I felt as though I had been hit by a truck. “I like your name, Crystal Clear,” I said acidly. “It’s apt.”

“Maybe a little rest,” she said as if she had not heard my remark. “Now remember to come back to see us. We love you here; do keep in touch.” She held up her tiny hands and I held up mine to reciprocate. Light came from hers into mine and knocked me softly backwards.

I lay on the air, as someone might lie on a gurney while being wheeled through hospital halls. My arms were across my chest, and I floated down the path like a patient returning from surgery.