Three Days in Heaven

I’m beginning to prepare for the trip back. It’s not as if I need to pack a suitcase; it’s more like getting myself mentally prepared. As you recall, when I arrived at the hospital I was nearly dead, which subsequently led to what appeared to be my death. This time around, I am alert and alive at some level. So as you might expect, it’s a little frightening to foresee the journey ahead. Will I fly through space and time? What will I see? What will I feel? Will it be like a transporter? I saw an episode of Star Trek, and the transporter scene didn’t work out so well for one of its victims. Or will I forgo the sci-fi imagery and just reappear; hopefully in one piece. But now I have enough faith and trust in God to know it will work out as planned, but it doesn’t mean I’m not afraid. His intuitive nature senses my angst.

“Tony, fear not! We’ve got a handle on this.”

His words are comfort enough.

Changing the subject, I comment, “You haven’t talked much about sin.”

God reaches over and picks up a long stick.

“So?”

He sits down and begins to nudge a small pebble in the sand with the stick.

“I figured the subject might come up. I wondered why it took you so long. Understand this, I didn’t put the Commandments together in order of importance.”

With a baffled look, I ask, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’ll explain it, and use Moses’s example. From my standpoint, I see little difference between stealing a banana and shooting your neighbor in the back of the head. Sin is sin. Don’t get me wrong, a few sins just irritate me, and others stir up anger. It’s the sins in the middle; the ones that hurt me. Nevertheless, sin is still sin.”

God continues to poke around at the pebble. Then it breaks into pieces.

I look down at the newly formed rubble and ask, “Does that mean something?”

“Does what mean something?”

I point to the pile of a demolished pebble.

“What does it mean?”

God is a bit aloof and continues to stir the debris.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Again, pointing at them, I ask, “Does the broken pebble symbolize something? Perhaps because of sin, our lives are a shattered mess?”

“Not really, I guess I poked it too hard.”

I’m still confused about comparing murder to stealing and say, “But one sure seems to outweigh the other.”

He remains seated and using His stick as a pointer, aims it toward the distance.

“Do you see that large boulder?”

I nod yes.

“Let’s compare the two. One is a small pebble, or at least it used to be, the other, a gigantic boulder. One is little; one is big. Both made of stone and no different from the other except for their size.”

I gaze at him with another one of my confused looks.

“Be patient Tony, and I’ll try to keep it simple. If you stole from a neighbor and lied about it, which is the greater sin, the theft or the lie?”

“Oh, I see where this is going.”

Then, in a cadence, we both say aloud, “One does not outweigh the other.”

“My point exactly.”

Moving right along and knowing I will be going home soon, I ask, “Do you know when we sin?”

“Yep. And no, I don’t keep tabs like some would suggest. People know when they mess up. They don’t need me to remind them. A court of law may spend a day, a week, months, or years to yield guilt or innocence. You ask me once for forgiveness—done and done. Yet others will carry around guilt their whole lives. Where is there any room for my forgiveness when you can’t forgive yourself? Forgiveness from me goes a long way. To forgive yourselves goes even further. Forgiveness leads to faith, and faith becomes the foundation for continued forgiveness. When they come to believe and accept the truth, it is then, they will find me, and I will be waiting.”

He continues, “Let’s get back to the story. Now where were we? Oh yeah, sometimes good people do bad deeds, and sometimes bad people do good deeds. A man who steals a loaf of bread to feed his family, is that sin?”

“I don’t see how it could be.”

“Guess what, Sport, it is. Like I said before, sin is sin, but sometimes the sin is shadowed by the greater good. I am fair and compassionate, on top of that, I’m in the forgiveness business, and that’s fine by me. I am not as mean and tough as some would have you believe. It’s a lot less stressful to forgive than to persecute. If I persecuted everyone who sinned,” then whispers, “and I’ve seen some doozies,” then continues with, “Heaven would be a pretty lonely place. Love, faith, and forgiveness go a long way. You people should try it sometime.”

He stands beside me, and using one of His fingers, pokes me in the side.

“Do you read the Bible?”

I confess I don’t as much as I should.

“It’s OK; you’re a busy man.”

In an instant, He raises His voice.

“Make time! There is a ton of useful information on those pages. Consider it a guide for living. Some say it’s a bunch of gibberish. It’s not. Inspirational words by inspired people and approved by yours truly. Can you guess which one of my favorite verses is?”

“There are so many choices. Which one?”

“Romans 8:28.”

I rub my chin, “Hmmm, I’m not familiar with that one.”

“Figures. I’ll paraphrase: All things are for the good to those that believe in Me. So you can clearly see the picture, I said all things are for the good. Not some things, not every once in a while, or not when I feel like it, but all things, all the time for those who are faithful and believe. Get it?”

“Got it. But it’s tough to accept some things and trust there is a good in there somewhere.”

“It’s called faith, Tony. And no, I don’t expect you to do a tap dance when something bad happens, but trust me, those who believe will survive, no matter what.”

“Why are you sending me back?”

“Tony, I brought you here to prove a point which we’ve already covered. I have to prove nothing. You have any more questions?”

“No, sir.”

God taps me on the back then looks at His watch.

I take a peek at it and comment, “Nice watch.”

He glances at it again, this time shaking it.

“Thanks. It’s a Timex.”

In a sort of concerned voice, He asks if I think it’s too flashy.

In an about-face, I put a comforting arm around Him and say, “Frank, it’s perfect.”

He continues to shake it, then taps it lightly.

“It hasn’t worked for a while, but at least it’s right twice a day!”

Both of us have a big laugh.

He tells me more stories of hope and faith. Now it seems to be the right time to ask Him what a lot of us want to know.

“All we have is faith. Why don’t you show yourself?”

“Show myself? Are you kidding me? I’m everywhere! Don’t you remember the big word you learned—omnipresent?”

Getting back to His more serious side, He continues.

“I have performed miracles all over the place, yet few pay any attention, or worse, seem to care. Let me tell a story about faith.”

He asks, “Who is your father? What is his name?”

Startled by this line of questioning, I answer, “Eugene.”

“You say Eugene is your father, how do you know?”

“First of all, I have a birth certificate, and his name is on it.”

“What does that prove?”

He continues to press the issue.

“How do you know?”

Now I’m getting irritated.

“I don’t, I just do.”

“Let me tell you this, Tony, your little piece of paper doesn’t mean squat. Think about this and please excuse the analogy, but I want to make a point.”

“Oh great, another point.”

Silly me keeps forgetting about His mind-reading trick.

“You do know I’m sitting right next to you? Now, may I finish?”

“Yes, you may.”

“Why thank you, Tony.”

Then He looks right at me.

“My point is, only one knows without a shadow-of-a-doubt that your father, as you claim, is your father.”

I consider myself a pretty smart guy, but that flew over my head.

The most intelligent thing I can say is, “OK, I’ll bite.”

“Drum roll please.”

I pause for a moment, then placating him, do a drum roll on my legs.

“The answer is—only your mother knows for sure, and, of course, me.”

“I don’t get it.”

Now God is thinking, “This guy got through law school?”

Then I comment, “Did you say something? Ha! Chad has been teaching me a few tricks too!”

“I’ll visit with him later. Anyway, faith is why you believe your father is your father, and you would defend that faith to the death if it were necessary. It’s that kind of faith that gets folks into Heaven. Remember this always— Heaven is not a place for the holy; it is a home for the faithful. My hope is, by using your eyes and ears I am giving the flock a peek into Heaven, using you as a witness. I am getting weary with all I see, and my patience is growing thin.”

“Why me? I’ve never been very religious, or even too faithful.”

I lower my head and say, “I have questioned my faith—a lot. I don’t even go to church very often.”

“Tony, I say to you, one has nothing to do with the other. I’d rather you be one of the faithful kicked back on your Lazy Boy on a Sunday morn than a faithless hypocrite warming a pew. So, I guess you’re one of those C and E types.”

“What’s that?”

“Only goes to church on Christmas and Easter.”

With my head still lowered, I reply, “Pretty much.”

He taps me on the head and I look up.

“The point is,”—then starring back at me, said, — “don’t even think it, but going to church does not make you any more faithful than swimming in the sea makes you a fish. People want things in life bigger than themselves, and I provided it, they only need to meet me halfway. The first step in believing in me is wanting to believe in me, and when they do, faith will not be far behind, and I’ll do the rest. Strain your brain, Tony, this may be hard to grasp. The greatest majority who make it in are squeakers as Jesus puts it.”

He looks over at me and doesn’t say anything, but I do.

“I know; I know—like lawyers.”

Laughing, He says, “If the shoe fits.”

Not to add insult to injury, I say, “I cannot believe what I’m about to say, so I’ll just spit it out. I forget to pray over a meal sometimes, to be honest, most of the time.”

“Don’t worry Tony, me either. Who would I talk to?”

As with many times before, both of us let out a chuckle.

“Here’s a newsflash, I know people’s hearts, and I know yours. You are a good and honorable man. I know faith is a huge burden to put on you people, but it is the clearest and easiest way to test the worthiness for an invitation to my home. By the time I’m done with the teachings, you’ll be overflowing with faith. You know who impressed me?”

“I give up. Who?”

“Noah. Talk about faith! Remember this; in the so-called modern era, trained professionals and engineers assembled the Titanic, and a winemaker a few years ahead of the caveman built the Ark. He did it with a lot of faith as his blueprint.”

He continues with a few more examples.

“And poor Job; don’t get me started with him. He had it rough and still remained faithful. Nowadays it’s easy. You won’t even break a sweat, not like then. Back in the day, I had them doing so many offerings and making sacrifices; I’m surprised Noah had enough to fill up the Ark!”

Then He laughs. I like His laugh.

He gives the example of children and their faith in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. As they grow older, not only do they lose their belief in those two; sometimes God gets lost in the mix as well.

“So faith is the barometer I use. You got a better idea?”

“I think you’ve got it covered.”

Laughing again, He says, “I’m glad you agree.”

I spend some time thinking about the whole concept of faith. It seems so easy; maybe too easy. Many years ago, people had to prove their faith. Nowadays all we need to do is proclaim it. In my practice, I had to make many complicated business and legal decisions and given my current set of circumstances; those didn’t mean a thing. Legal matters I’d decided on were often temporary fixes to the problem. A decision of faith will carry you through and beyond eternity. It finally makes sense.

“Tony, your time here is growing short. When I send you back, tell this story of faith, and have those who hear my message, pass it to the many that will listen. Some will believe; some won’t. Also, say to them, as quickly I created all there is, I can as swiftly make it go away.”

Then in an instant, God does an exploding gesture with His hands and whispers— “Poof.”

“Poof?” I ask.

Then He does the same gesture again.

“Yeah, poof.”

The love He has for us is immeasurable; equal to God’s love is His resolve to punish the faithless and unrepentant.

“I’m not big into threats, but I’ve about had it! And when I come back, they’ll remember the flood as a spring shower. I’ll make Sodom and Gomorrah look like a Sunday picnic. Your scientists think the Big Bang was impressive? What I have in store will make their so-called Big Bang sound like a kid’s pop-gun.”

Overwhelmed at what “poof” might look like, and whatever the consequences are, I ask, “Is there a hell? The Bible speaks little of it.”

“Hell has several meanings, and many have tried to describe it. To put it plainly, it is a separation between them and me—forever. As far as I can tell, you people create your own kind of hell. I will show you Hell.”

Up to now, it’s mostly been fun and games, and a lot of teachings and learning, but now I’m frightened.

“Only one other has been a witness to Hell, and He conquered it and returned to me. You will also come back and tell the others what you have seen.”

With the thought of a visit the underworld spinning around in my head, I exclaim, “Why?” and plead with Him.

“Please, no! I don’t want to see it!”

In a hushed tone, God says, “You have too.”

He reaches for my hand and brings me to His side. As we stand together, God makes a slow passing motion with His arm. In an instant, there are flashes of lightning followed by several loud claps of thunder. There is a moment of stillness, but it doesn’t last long.

The thunder, lightning and all the remaining light vanishes and replaced by darkness, wind, and cold. In the dark, I hear faint sobbing and moaning all around. I begin to shiver, not because of the chill in the air… but fear.

All at once, I sense His presence disappear. I stand there alone, and the cold and fear have been overtaken with the deepest and most painful loneliness I have ever known. The ground begins to quake, and I am shaken to the ground. Rocks and other debris are falling all about, and everything around me has crumbled away. Where I had been standing, was now a small disintegrating island, large enough for a single occupant—me. It is surrounded by a river of flames thousands of feet below.

There is another massive quake, and again I fall, this time off of my small piece of real estate, and plummet toward the fiery abyss below. I am tumbling and spinning out of control and screaming all the way down.

Paralyzed with fear, I cry out, “Please, God! Save me!”

He hears my plea, and then a thunderous voice from above echoes throughout this place.

“This is Hell, and you are a witness to it. Remember it always.”

A moment later, I’m back on solid ground. I am drowning in my own sweat and hyperventilating when a small crack emerges from the darkness.

Faint glimmers of light shine through, then another thunderous voice trumpets, “This is Heaven! All of this wonderment I created for the faithful!”

As the darkness disappears, in its place, a brightly lit sunny and cloudless blue sky begins to emerge. As far as I can see to the east, and to the west, a dazzling rainbow paints the heavens. Shades of red, blue, yellow, green, and other colors I have never seen, much less ever describe. I stand in awe of the most beautiful and breathtaking scenery anyone could imagine. A snow-capped mountain is in the distance, with a peak that seems endless. This world has so much majesty; Michelangelo would clamber to duplicate it on canvas.

Up to now, a slight haze has been all around, even on the golf course. The haziness lifts and in front of me is a crystal-clear lake with a trickling waterfall fed by a slow-moving stream nearby. All sorts of birds and animals are in perfect harmony with one another, and people from all walks of life are strolling about enjoying this heavenly beauty. I am in such awe, I can’t speak, but God does.

“Tony, all of this, and all that you see, I created for you and the others. Sadly, many will not choose this. Instead, they will take other gods and put their faith in them.”

As I’m beginning to calm down, I ask Him about my horrific visit just moments ago

“Why would you create such a place like that?”

“Me? I created nothing of the kind—you did. Let me paraphrase something from the Bible.”

Many will pay the penalty of eternal ruin, separated from the presence of the Lord, and from the glory of His power.

“The place you witnessed is what separation from me would be like, and hell was a word someone threw in to describe it. What you saw were the remains of what your world will look like after I get done with it, but the way you people are treating it, I might not have to break a sweat.”

“What do you mean?”

“Between your wars and weapons and treating the planet like a toilet, you folks might beat me to the punch, none-the-less, the result will be the same; a smoldering rock floating through space inhabited by those who did not choose this as their home. But if things keep going the way they are, I might nudge it along.”

“Oh yeah, poof.”

“Yeah, poof. As I said, Heaven is forever and not a place for the unfaithful. What you saw was the future for the others if they don’t clean up their act. Might there be redemption for those left behind? Perhaps, but very difficult. I made it easy to have faith, it will not be as easy the next time around. You are either for me or against me, and there is no in between, —period.”

“Is there a compromise?”

“Yeah, have faith in Me.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a compromise.”

“That’s the best I’m willing to do.”

He moves ahead of me and sees children playing jump rope. He can’t help Himself and joins in on the fun as I catch up to Him.

“These are my best creations.”

He embraces one of the children and sets her on His lap.

“All they want is to love and to be loved. War and hatred are not in their vocabulary. No concerns about rising to the top, or keeping up with the Joneses, —just love. Love is my gift to the children when they pop out of the womb. You people teach them everything else.”

He sets the little girl down, and she runs back to her friends. He guides me over to a big rock and motions for me to sit by Him.

“Before you go back, I have a couple messages for you to pass along. I created the laws of physics and put them into motion, so explain to your scientists to not get so giddy when they figure one out. They don’t have a clue of what’s out there. I believe you call it the tip of the iceberg. Newton gets hit on the head by a falling apple, then claims to have discovered gravity. Discovered it? He just gave it a name.”

Then He says, pointing to the children still playing, “A child could have done it, but he gets all the credit.”

I pat myself down and search my pockets for something to write with.

“Do I need to be taking notes?”

“You will remember. And Tony, do this as a personal favor. Tell that TV preacher in Texas to stop making money using the Book of Revelations as his selling point and to stop using so much blush.”

Moses cries out from afar, “He looks like a hooker!”

God nods and says, “I agree.”

In a bit of shock, I quietly exclaim, “Frank!”

God nudges in close to me and whispers, “Well he does.”

He moves away from me then continues.

“I’ll let you in on a secret. John went a little overboard with Revelations, and I understand, but that jet-setting, so-called preacher is making a fortune scaring people. Sure, it was me who inspired Revelations and John wrote it. My version was in tip-top shape, but he felt the need to add to it. Way too dramatic for my taste, but I’ll give him kudos for getting everyone’s attention.”

We spend what seems like hours walking and talking. I’m trying my best to soak in every word and expression on God’s face as He continues with His message. He’s also not a big fan of people doing work on His behalf, especially the killings in His name. He told me if they want to pick a fight, — start with Him. He assures me He is quite capable of taking care of business.

Then reminds me, “Remember the flood?”

I had the opportunity to meet with some old friends and relatives. One of my dearest friends, Larry appears. He walks over to where I am standing and smiles.

“So you made it in? Who’d a thunk?”

Then he traipses off laughing all the while, then turns and waves, “Later, gator.”

I also wave, and a second later, looking at the emptiness where Larry stood, I quietly say to myself, “After a while, crocodile.”

Grateful for my brief visit with Larry, God comes up to me and says, “I just thought of something.”

Then He asks, “You know what the two most common questions are in Heaven?”

“No, what?”

“Where is so-and-so? And how’d you get here?”

“That’s pretty good. Speaking of which, I haven’t seen my Uncle Robert around.”

He shrugs His shoulders.

“Oops.”

“I guess he wasn’t part of the faithful.”

“Worse than that, he was a politician! And yes, you are right, he was not part of the faithful.”

We talk more about faith, and God asks, “Do you get the hang of it?”

“I guess so. According to you, it’s easier to enter the Gates of Heaven than getting an American Express Card.”

“Not the best example I might have used,” He said with a chuckle, “but you’re right. With faith, you’ll never receive a rejection letter, just one stamped approved. You know, Tony, I like the way it sounds. You got me to thinking; maybe I’ll use it as my new motto. I’ll add it to my business cards.”

Business cards? I don’t even bother to ask. I know my time here is coming to an end, but I had more questions. The biggest one is about my sister.

Into early adulthood, we were raised Lutheran. Some Lutherans, and I suppose others too, have a particular burn for people who take their own life. Some would have you believe it’s a non-stop trip straight to Hell. With fragments of those teachings lingering in my mind and the idea of my sister subjected to an eternal fate, I feel my eyes moisten. A moment later, tears start flowing down my face.

Wiping them with the back side of my hand, I practically command, “Where is my sister?”

He questions me, “Why do you ask, Tony?”

Now the tears are rolling, and I stutter, “I don’t see her.”

“Tony, let me explain something. I like Martin—you know I’m talking about Luther, right? He was a real straight shooter, but even he had questions about the taking of one’s own life. He got most of it right but some of it— he got wrong. The way I see it, those who harm themselves are suffering a kind of helplessness and hopelessness even I have a problem understanding. I remember your sister, and I held her close in my arms until her last breath.”

Still weeping, I ask, “Is she here?”

“Look over there,” He says pointing to an open field.

As I look out, there appears a bright, shining light of a figure approaching me. The closer it gets, the dimmer the light, and I begin to recognize her; it is my sister, Marie. She approaches and reaches for me. She smiles at me and the best way to describe it, it’s the best storybook hug of a lifetime. We sink into each other’s arms, and I can’t let her go.

Then she says softly in my ear, “Hello, Tony. It’s been a long time.”

We’re still holding on to each other and God says, “I’ll leave you two. We have to concentrate on sending you back pretty soon. They’re talking about cremating you later today. Don’t those people know it’s hard enough to deal with a whole body instead of a pile of ashes?”

He strolls off, laughing all the way.

We release our embrace and reach for each other’s hand, then Marie and I take a walk across the meadow.

“Tony, do you remember all the wonderful times we had growing up as kids?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I cherish those memories, and you should too. You see, because I am not around, does not mean I am gone.”

“That’s sweet Marie. You sure have gotten a lot nicer since you got here.”

“Yeah, it goes with the territory, I suppose.”

We both chuckle.

Still hand-in-hand, she says, “Those fun times will forever be in your heart. If you find yourself feeling sad or lonely, always remember I love you. I will be the warmth on your face from a sunny, crisp spring morning, or maybe a dragonfly dancing on a nearby fence post. It could even be a single feather lying under the tree we used to climb. All those things are where you will see the beauty in life, and it’s those places you will find me.”

I stop and look at her, then pointing up, I say, “You’re starting to sound like Him.”

Again, both of us let out a big laugh and continue our walk. Further down the pathway we’d been walking on, and in an instant, she stops and turns me around and reaches for my other hand; we are now standing face-to-face.

“Tony, I want to thank all those who’ve watched after my little ones all these years, especially you and Bev.”

“It’s been an honor. Your kids miss you, and I never let them forget.”

“I miss them too, but I check on them all the time. I enjoy watching them play. They seem happy.”

“They are happy. They’re good kids.”

With her still facing me, I pull her close, put my arms around her and whisper, “I love you so much, Marie.”

She whispers back, “I love you too, dear brother.”

We release each other, but still hold hands, and she says, “I was sad to hear about Steve.”

Steve, Marie’s husband, my brother-in-law, passed away about a year ago. His final years were filled with sadness, depression, and despair over the loss of his wife.

“Is he here?” I ask.

She let go of my hand and looks away. She turns back to me with a sad, expressionless face.

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m so sorry, Marie.”

Seconds later, she does a cheerleader leap into the air and says with enthusiasm, “Psych!”

“Very cute, Marie. I’m glad you still have a sense of humor.”

We spend the remainder of our time enjoying each other’s company.

“Tony, I need to go to work, and they’re getting ready to send you back. Paul is about to shoot himself, and if you don’t go soon, he’s taking you with him.”

“That’s funny; Bev said something similar.”

Then I ask, “Work? What kind of work do you do?”

“It’s more of a volunteer deal. I help out Saint Peter with the squeakers. We check the paperwork to make sure they didn’t slip through the cracks. It makes them a nervous wreck,” then whispers, “it’s only a book with a bunch of blank pages.”

“Again, Marie, very cute.”

With her arms swinging in the air, she does a twirl.

“It takes some excellent acting to pull it off.”

Marie continues with the flailing of arms, then skips around in a circle.

“I should have been a movie star.”

She stops with her “Hollywood walk of fame” routine and lets me in on more of the torment they inflict on new arrivals.

“One of my favorites is when sometimes me and Moses flip a coin, you know, heads or tails to see if they can enter. Frank thinks it’s wrong.”

“Why wouldn’t He? It’s mean!”

“Not about the coin flipping, it’s because we fib when they guess wrong. They all make it in and live happily ever after. It’s a final jab so those wretches realize how close they came to going in another direction.”

“But in the end, everyone who make it in are innocent. Right?”

Marie had been bubbly up to this point, but then for a second, she seems sad and let out a frustrating sigh.

“Yeah, that’s the downside. Innocent— I don’t like the word. Whatever.”

In life, Marie was a probation officer who loved to put the bad guys away, so dealing with all of the ones that get into Heaven in is sometimes a downer.

“Every once in a while, I wish He’d let us send someone further south, just to break the monotony. Oh well, you said it before; we don’t make the rules.”

The time is growing short, and I change the subject. When someone ends their own life, so many questions are left unanswered. No letter to friends or loved ones can ever fully explain why? The only thing for certain is a hole in your heart. Before she goes, I need to say one more thing.

“Marie, what you did hurt a lot of people.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, she looks at me square in the eyes.

“I know, but a lot of people hurt me too.”

I never asked the question many of us long to know— why? But after seeing and talking with her, the hole in my heart began to heal.

The two of us say our farewells, and ends with another big hug, this time, many fewer tears. Happiness at seeing Marie replaced them.

“See you around, Tony.”

She turns and walks toward the sun. The brightness blinds me as I squint and watch her every footstep. In typical Marie-style, she looks back at me once more and did a fake parade-queen wave. I shield my eyes from the light, and when I squint one more time, — she’s gone.

God comes over to me and gently rubs my back.

“Are you alright?”

A little teary-eyed, let Him know I was OK.

“I can say one thing for sure, since Marie showed up, things haven’t been the same. She’s hilarious! Moses considers her quite the jokester. They shouldn’t, and I don’t know how or why, but those two get along great. Moses and Marie have been known to team up and give the newbies a hard time.”

“I know, she told me. That’s Marie for sure. I guess it’s true, the more things change, the more they stay the same. She hasn’t changed a bit, even though she’s—”

He interrupts me and says, “Alive and well, and at peace.”

Out of curiosity, I had to ask. 

“Did Adam and Eve make it?”

“Sure they did. Don’t you remember?”

“Oh yeah, but I never saw them.”

“There here alright. Those two still think it’s cute to walk around naked all the time like a couple of hippies. Anyway, they were faithful but goofed-up like everyone else. ‘Eve and Adam’ got all the attention, you know, original sin and all that jazz.”

To be annoying and showing His sense of humor, He says “Eve and Adam” instead of the other way around like the rest of us.

“Now I remember, you kicked them out of the—”

He stops me before I could say another word.

“Tony, do you seriously want to revisit the subject again?”

Arms fully crossed, God waits for an answer.

“Well?”

“Not really.”

I start looking around and ask, “Where do you keep them?”

“Tony, they’re not cattle. We don’t ‘keep’ them anywhere. They’re splendid gardeners, so they stay kind of busy.”

As a reminder, He says, “But we keep them away from the fruit trees,” then He leans in and whispers, “if you know what I mean.”

Moments later, they walk by us, and sure enough… naked.

“See what I’m talking about?”

In unison, they say, “Hi, Frank.”

“Don’t you ‘hi’ Frank, me. How many times do I have to tell you to stop running around in your birthday suits? Now get out of here and put on a fig leaf or something.”

They said nothing and took off. Hand in hand, they laugh all the way toward some trees.

Both of us laugh along too. One thing for sure, there’s a lot of laughter up here. I need to add it to my list—we don’t laugh enough.

“So, if you are sending me back, how are you going to do it?”

“Not too sure. I guess we’ll have to wing it.”

I’ve gotten more comfortable with the apparent lack of reverence and say, “Frank, that isn’t very comforting. You are aware in a couple of hours or so, they’re going to start cutting me into pieces, put me back together, — with what’s left. Afterward, say something nice, and then I get to go out in a blaze of glory—literally.”

Moses floats back down on a parachute and lands next to us.

“We’re working on it, Tony; keep your panties on. This is new to us, too. We’ve never done it this way, so give us a break.”

He wrestles free from the confines of the parachute, shakes it off and continues. “It’s been fun messing with all those medical people. Frank thinks it’s hysterical!”

“I’m not as amused. Why can’t I stay and save all the effort?”

Moses moves in close to me, and we are almost nosed to nose; so close I can feel his breath.

He pokes me in the chest with each word and in a stern tone says, “Because—that— isn’t —the— plan.”

He stops the poking then adds, “You have to go back. Now skedaddle.”

God comes over to me and says, “Tony, we’re running out of time, so let’s wrap it up. Things are getting way out of control, and I want to give everyone a chance to straighten up, and the time is ticking away.”

I chuckle and say, “I hope you’re using your watch.”

He looks at me, eyebrows raised slightly and says, “Chad’s works just fine.”

He continues to explain my mission.

“I needed a beacon, and that is why I chose you. Everything you have seen and witnessed here, in all of its splendor and glory, I only ask one thing of you, and that is to send a simple message of faith.”

I pause for a second and give Him one of Bev’s infamous glares.

I feel a slight pulse in my neck, then ask, “Wait a minute. Just a message of faith?”

The pulse is now a throb but calmly ask, “What else?”

God looks up, rubs His chin, then says, “None I can think of, just a message of faith. Why do you ask? Is that so difficult?”

Now the adrenalin kicks in, and I pace around for a few steps, then halt with the pacing.

I turn toward Him, and in a fit of anger, both hands fly way up in the air and exclaim, “That’s it?”

With my voice elevated to a less than Angelic volume, I continue, “Back there,”— I am spinning around, pointing in every direction not knowing precisely where “there” is, then stop and say— “Who cares, where?”

God touches me on the shoulder and says, “You don’t have to yell.”

I jerk myself away and say, “I’m not yelling! I’m was being emphatic!”

Now it was His turn to comfort me.

“There, there, try to compose yourself.”

“Compose myself? They think I’m dead!”

With a smirk, God replies, “And?”

Then more subdued than me, says, “They’ll get over it.”

“Get over it! I’ve been kidnapped, and...”

He cuts me off again, but this time a bit more “worked-up” and says, “That’s just plain rude.”

I ignore Him and continue the rant.

“I’ve been to Hell and back,”— I tone back the rhetoric and lean in toward him— “which, by the way, scared the wits out me, and ...”

Again He interrupts and says, “I did bring you back and let you see Heaven.”

“What? As a consolation prize?”

God says grinning, “I could send you back if you’d prefer.”

“That’s OK, I’m fine and dandy right here. You aren’t listening to me! I have a grieving wife, worried kids, and a friend who’s about to hang himself and take me with him! And all I need to do is pass along a message of faith?”

“Yep, that’s it. Just like it says in the Bible, If God is for us, who can be against us? It goes the other way around as well.”

I retreat from the ranting, shake my head and say, “I’m beginning to feel like Dorothy, minus the ruby red slippers. Why didn’t you just send me a dove with a message? I would have believed that.”

God replies, “Oh really? I thought a personal visit would be more convincing than a bird with a note.”

Again, He masters the conversation, and I say, “Can we change the subject? The last one wore me out. I have one more question.”

“Shoot.”

“Do you hear our prayers?”

“Every one of them. You know what’s number one?”

“I give up.”

“You’d think the healing of a loved one or to help get a better job would be right up there. Nope! Winning the lottery tops the list. The deals they make are unbelievable! They’re very specific what they’d do if they won and don’t spare on originality. Give to a church or charity, help out a family in need, and so on, instead when one wins, the first thing they do is hire a scoundrel like you and hide, then deny they knew anyone who ever existed.”

Then adds, “I wish every once in a while someone would be honest; Dear God, please let me win the lottery so I can buy a boat. It seems the others down the list are used as bartering chips. Do this for me and I’ll do this for you. Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. It frustrates me I only hear from many of them when their backs are against the wall—but I still listen.”

Jokingly God adds, “Maybe not as attentively as I should.”

God pauses for a moment and said, “Tony before you go back, I have another little surprise for you.”

Right then, He put two pinkies to His mouth and lets out an ear-piercing whistle.

“Over here girl!”

I could see a beautiful Golden Retriever coming toward us; It was our little girl, Aspen; healed and alive. She instantly recognizes me, and a full-frontal assault ensues. I fell to the ground— with her on top of me. We wrestle around for a few moments, and soon she was covering me from head to toe with dog spit from all the licking.

As I was getting my bath, God pet her on the head and said, “I know one thing for sure, since Aspen got here, our flip-flop budget has gone through the roof!”

When Aspen lived with us, she collected several of our flip-flops and hid them; most were never found again.

Aspen and I are still rolling around on the ground and playing, then she resumes her position on top of me.

“Between Marie and Aspen, I don’t know how you keep up!”

God responds with a hint of laughter.

“It’s been a trick, I assure you. Because of those two, we’ve had to rewrite the definition of patience.”

Aspen stops with the licking and with both ears at full attention, she hears the other dogs barking in the distance. She looks in the direction of the others and scurries off. A few yards out, she stops and turns toward me. With her tail wagging at full speed, she bounces around in circles and was jumping up and down like a kid on a pogo stick. She stops, stood in place and stares right at me.

We gaze into each other’s eyes; then she let out a loud bark as if to say, “Thank you for not letting me suffer.”

She turns away and was off in a full stride to go and play with her friends.

I watch her run for as long as I could until she disappears. With more tears flowing, He gently wipes them from my face and put His arm around me. With the remnants of some sniffling, the only thing I could say was, “Thank you, Frank.”

His response was short and kind.

“You are welcome, Tony.”

As many times before since I got here, God comes to me and wraps an arm around my shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you Tony, but you have a lot ahead. Remember to keep the faith and spread the good news. I need to go now and get to a poker game. Teresa cleaned me out the last time,”— Then He shows me a pair of aces up His sleeve, — “and I’m getting even.”

“You’re going to cheat Mother Teresa?”

“It’s called payback. Last week Tess, her nickname around here, had a marked deck. Two can play at that game.”

I have heard since the beginning years of Sunday school that God was our friend. Since my stay in Heaven, it has all changed—He is my best friend. When He hugs me goodbye, I am overwhelmed with a feeling of peace and tranquility I’ve never known. He releases me, lightly punches my arm and gives me a wink. Right then, and in the blink of an eye, I am whisked off as quickly as I had arrived.