Possible Scenarios for Heaven

Years ago, I read a blog post that touched me deeply. It was entitled “Possible Scenarios for Heaven” and it was and is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read. All these years later, I still remember it and think about it occasionally which is weird because I don’t even remember how I ended up on that blog.

In the past seven days, Mr. Sweetie lost his auntie, Birdie lost her mother, and my family observed the 20th anniversary of my beautiful little cousin’s accidental death at age 19. It’s been a hard week. So in honor and memory of Janie and Betty Jean and Kelley, here are my own personal possible scenarios for heaven:

• You wake up every day to the smell of coffee and bacon, and warm peach cobbler with homemade vanilla ice cream is considered an acceptable substitute for breakfast.

•  Your front porch has a sweeping view of snow-capped mountains. Your back door opens onto the beach.

• Baseball season lasts all year long, and you have season tickets right behind home plate for your favorite team, the Universal All-time All-stars. Your hot dog never grows cold, your beer never grows warm, and you catch a foul ball at every game.

• Every day right after lunch, you sit at God’s feet while he brushes your hair and tells you how special you are. Then he gives you a hug and insists that you take a nap.

• There is an enormous library in which every book you pick up is the best book you ever read. Included in this library are the answers to all the mysteries of the universe, no matter how big or how small, including whether Lee Harvey Oswald acted alone, whether Big Foot and the Loch Ness Monster exist, whether there is intelligent life on other planets, and where the missing socks go when you do laundry.

• Heaven is a giant craft store that carries only your favorite colors of paints, yarns, beads, and other supplies, so that you don’t even have to look at the icky colors. You can effortlessly learn any art or craft that you like, and every project turns out exactly as you pictured it in your head.

• It is always strawberry season.

• You sleep at night on a screened in porch under a blanket soft and faded with age. Fireflies twinkle in the darkness until a gentle rain starts to fall on the tin roof overhead. From inside the house, you can hear a radio, softly playing Patsy Cline singing “Crazy.”