And go on he did, retiring at last to raise Christmas trees on a small farm in the rainy Washington state countryside. But even then, talk of a loving God was rejected — until his hair turned gray and his step slowed, his back stooped and his eyes dimmed. That’s when the voices started, strange yet familiar voices that he simply could not reason away. Still, though he heard the voices singing, calling him from the past — or were they calling him into the future? — he refused to believe. Time and circumstances had taught him the futility of belief in anything he couldn’t see or touch. An aberration, he reasoned. A sign of advancing age, that’s all it was. For there was no other logical explanation for the sweet voices he heard from time to time, voices that tugged at the long-buried memories of his heart as they sang their German hymns of faith and promise.

Once, he confided in his grown daughter about the voices. She, steeped in her own faith, suggested they were angels, singing to him of God’s love and urging him to believe. But he rejected her explanation, and never mentioned the voices again.

Then it happened. Cancer. Heart failure. Hardening of the arteries. A series of mini-strokes. It was just past his eighty-eighth birthday, but Hans was beginning to regress — first, to his working days before he retired; then, back to the time when his children were young, and even before that, to his early days as a young man in America, struggling to find a foothold, a job, a place he could call home. Finally, his English became blurred with German, the native language he had seldom spoken for decades. The weakened old man with the trembling hands, spindly legs, and clouded eyes had returned to his childhood. And in that childhood, he began to sing — sometimes in German, sometimes in English — of a time long ago, a land far away, and a faith almost forgotten. And amidst the ancient hymns, “Jesus loves me, this I know,” sprang from his withered, cracked lips, as Hans crooned to his grateful family, who listened and watched, their eyes filled with tears. The grandfather, the father, the husband had once again become a child, and in the memories of his childhood he had found the simplicity to believe.

“Except you come as a little child,” Jesus said, “you will never see the kingdom of God.” Hans could not come as a man — his heart had grown too hard. But he came as a child, and he did indeed see God’s kingdom, shining from the heavens, beckoning him with angel voices to come home.

And so he did. On October 23, 1999, with his family gathered around his bedside at his beloved tree farm in Washington, the little boy named Hans slipped out of his “old man” suit, smiled a final farewell to his loved ones, and was reunited with his beautiful mother as, together, they joined in singing with the angels. A mother’s faith, the prayers of loved ones, and most of all the mercy of God had brought yet another child home.

Kathi Macias is an Angel-award winning writer who has authored seventeen books, including the bestselling devotional A Moment A Day from Regal Books, and the popular Matthews and Matthews detective novels from Broadman and Holman. Kathi has written commentary for Thomas Nelson’s Spirit-Filled Life Bible (Student Edition) and was part of the devotional writing team for Zondervan’s New Women’s Devotional Bible. Her numerous articles, short stories, and poems have appeared in various periodicals. Kathi is a popular speaker at churches, women’s clubs and retreats, and writers’ conferences, and has appeared on several radio and TV programs. A mother and grandmother, Kathi lives in Homeland, CA, with her husband, Al, where she is at work on several writing and editing projects. An ordained minister, Kathi serves as spiritual adviser to the Christian Authors Network and membership chairman for the Advanced Writers and Speakers Association. www.kathimacias.com.