In a large town, an old woman sat alone in her room one evening. She reflected on her losses: first her husband, then both her children, then all her relations one by one, and finally, that very day, her last friend. Now she was utterly alone and desolate. Her heart was heavy, and the loss of her sons weighed upon her most. In her grief, she blamed God.
Lost in thought, she suddenly heard the bells ringing for early morning prayer. Surprised to realize she had spent the entire night in sorrowful vigil, she lit her lantern and went to church.
Upon arrival, she found the church already lit, not with the usual wax candles, but with a dim light. It was crowded, every seat taken. When she reached her usual place, the entire bench was entirely full. Looking at the people, she saw they were none other than her deceased relations, dressed in old-fashioned garments with pale faces.
They neither spoke nor sang, but a soft humming and whispering filled the church. Then, an aunt of hers stood up, stepped forward, and said to the poor old woman, "Look beside the altar, and thou wilt see thy sons."
The old woman looked and saw her two children: one hanging on the gallows, the other bound to the wheel. Her aunt then said, "Behold, so would it have been with them if they had lived, had the good God not taken them to Himself when they were innocent children."
The old woman went home trembling, fell to her knees, and thanked God for having dealt with her more kindly than she had been able to understand. On the third day, she lay down and died.