“Donna” writes in our series of new Communion Letters: This is not a tale of missing time, but of gained time, courtesy of the aliens. My daughter, her step-daughter and myself were driving to attend a dance show at a local college, which is a solid three and a half hour drive from our city. We needed to be there at 5:30 and we didn’t get on the road until 3:30, which was going to make us an hour late for the opening.

As I was driving, I was silently praying, “Time, wait for me,” repeating the phrase like a mantra in my mind, at the same time apologizing for the late start and promising not to do it again. I didn’t mention to anyone in the car that I was doing this. About half way to our destination, my daughter, Carie, and I were talking about our various alien encounters and UFO sightings; it’s definitely a family affair with us.

It was a beautiful, cloudless day, the wind was not blowing, there were no dust clouds and we could see for miles across the flat prairies as we drove along. Suddenly, the car jerked sharply; it felt as if a giant hand reached down and grabbed us…and here’s the amazing thing…we were picked up and transported from the right hand lane to the left hand lane in a blink of an eye, still traveling in the same direction at 70 miles an hour! The car wobbled a bit but I was not in danger of losing control of the steering at all. I quickly noted that all the other cars were still in the same proximity to us, as they had been before this happenednothing changed with any other car but ours. As you might imagine we were quite stunned, but then I noticed the mile marker on the side of the inter-state that we were an hour further down the highway then we should have been for the length of time that we had been driving. We gained an hour and we arrived on time for the show.

Another unrelated escapade with the visitors unfolded for me many years earlier. I was unaware that I had a tubular pregnancy. Two days BEFORE the emergency surgery that saved my life, I had a near-death experience. It was 1964, and nothing had been written about NDEs, so I had no point of reference for my experience after the event.

I knew that my body had died, but unconcerned about it. I was rising through the blackest black you can fathom, and I could see, perfectly fine, the dazzling darkness of God. There were other souls moving upward with me. Some were clearly frightened, some were confused, some were barely conscious, some were angry, and some were what I call the flat ones, totally unaware of themselves as having an existence. I felt pity for them. Some were like myself, lively and curious and looking around with delight.

We proceeded to a point of light where we encountered a clear crystal tunnel. There we entered one soul at a time where our papers were processed as we emerged (Red tape everywhere). I was shown what a mess humanity is in, and the pain and the grief I felt for the suffering souls on earth was unbearable. I was bent over in agony; I wanted everyone to come where I was, to this place of safety, beauty and peace. Apparently that wasn’t my choice. I woke up in the recovery room after surgery, crying, “I have to help the people.” The nurse, unimpressed said, “Yeah,yeahat least this one isn’t very heavy,” as they transferred me to a gurney while I was in a world of pain.

My doctors said that I must have been 2 and 1/2 months along in the pregnancy because of the development of the after-birth tissue they recovered, although they didnt know why they didn’t find a fetus. They were mystified because no one ever survives a tubular pregnancy that long, because the fallopian tube bursts at 2 months, causing hemorrhaging and almost immediate death for the mother.

Thirty years later, for some reason one day, I was thinking about the fetus, wondering what had happened to it. That afternoon, I went to a local bookstore and was amazed to find a young man, standing in my line of vision, smiling broadly at me, as if he had been waiting for me. His young wife was standing beside him, also smiling at me. He was holding a beautiful baby. He looked very much like my son: same body build, same smile, same stance, same color blond hair, the only difference being this stranger’s hair was shoulder length. I smiled back at him, thinking, “My son has a brother.” I left the store with a deep sense of peace impossible to put into words. Was it wishful thinking on my part I don’t know.

NOTE: This Insight, previously published on our old site, will have any links removed.