As I read the words of Amy Carmichael, she seemed to be a friend that I already knew. The sister I never had. The woman who discipled me to Christ without me knowing. She wrote, "There are times when something comes into our lives which is charged with love in such a way that it seems to open the Eternal to us for a moment, or at least some of the Eternal Things, and the greatest of these is love. It may be a small and intimate touch upon us or our affairs, light as the touch of the dawn wind on the leaves of the tree, something not to be captured and told to another in words. But we know that it is our Lord. And then perhaps the room where we are, with its furniture and books and flowers, seems less "present" than His Presence, and the heart is drawn into that sweetness of which the old hymn sings. The love of Jesus, what it is; None but His loved ones know."