Last year, at about this time, all the angels in heaven had a competition to see who could write the most beautiful song, to be sung every morning in heaven for the next thousand years. For God is a great lover of music, and prefers to be woken up each day by a song. He is lucky, for there are no better singers than his angels. One of these angels is my friend, and when we were walking together one evening, after dinner, she told me all of this, and sighed that she could not think of a song to write. So I quickly jotted something down, and gave it to her to use as her own invention in the contest. A year later, I saw her again, and she told me that God had chosen someone else's music as the winner. She reached out her hand and said, “I'm sorry.” “There is nothing to be sorry for,” I said, taking her hand: “For the Creator Himself has heard my music. And so, you have given me the greatest gift of all - a thoughtful listener - even one who rejects me. This I prefer even to careless ears who may love me.” And with that, the angel spread her wings and flew away, appearing like a white dove above the cornfield.