Relative: a thing having a relation to or connection with or necessary dependence on another thing. (www.Mirriam-Websters.com)
The distance between two points is … Relative. (Professor Friedrich Hegel, Space 101)
Have you ever notice that when you want to get some where in a hurry, it takes forever and when you are having fun, time seams to rush past?
Now that I was ready to meet my maker, sins rationalized, good works aggrandized, all T’s crossed and I’s dotted, I wondered where all my relatives were. Everyone knows that when you die you should be greeted by those who have gone before you. That’s just one of those universal truths. Yet here I was alone in a crowd of millions waiting at the Pearly Gates and there wasn’t a dead relative in sight, Not even a friend or pets of mine to be found.
I gave up trying to find anyone I could recognize and joined the lineup to the Gates close to a group of singers that seamed to be having fun. We sang some hymns I remembered from church and even a couple of popular rock songs. Ones that I used to sing along to on my mp3 player. The highlight of my wait was the Macerena. Our little group danced and pranced in place and yelled: “Hey, Macerena… Aye!”
We were all severely shushed after that but I think it released the worried steam valve of the wait.
There was one woman in our group of singers with an amazing voice. I stood by her so that she could drown out my rusty soprano. She could trill her way up one octave and down another as we sang Ave Maria. She could have put a chorus of angels to shame. Then again, maybe we were a chorus of angels, we were dead.
It was enjoyable to sing my heart out with the others and in no time at all I was at the gate.
And there was Old St. Peter, or should I say Yummy St. Peter at the gate. I have always thought that when our mortal bodies are left behind we will appear in our best mortal state until the resurrection and then be perfected. St Peter seamed to have taken advantage of that thought.
He winked at me. I looked to my left side then the other side and back at St. Peter. He winked again and I pointed a finger at my chest and lo and behold another wink. Boy did that light up my after-life. I just batted my lashes right back with a wicked smile. He actually laughed.
Oh, I could get used to this.
Fingers twiddled, twirled and jerked to produce a long thin white lily. I held it to my chest and closed my eyes, then with a flourish I presented it to him. He waved me in with open mouth amazement. His open mouth, my amazement. I’d passed through the pearly Gates and not been rejected. I have to admit there had been a lot of moments I envisioned my week willed self being pointed in the downward direction.
Jumping up and down for joy I grabbed the nearest person and wept with relief.
That was when I was snagged by the bluest eyes I had ever seen. The brown hair over one eye was shaken and then I was on my knees. Tears of longing joined my wet cheeks. “White Dove” I whispered.
The hand on my shoulder stilled my heart. My Savior was smiling down on me and I couldn’t wait to greet my long dead blue healer, White Dove.
I looked up at the other pair of blue eyes and pleaded for time, “Could I see my dog and my animals first, please?”
“Then I heard a familiar gasp, “Evangeline Sarah Rawlings! Do you know who you are talking to, Young Lady?”
The censure in my mother’s voice had my head hung in shame, but the twinkle in my Lords eyes dared me for truth.
The twinkle was irresistible, “Will the judgment take long? I really would like to see my animals.”
“Sarah, you know me well,” Jesus praised and I knelt in reverence.
I had talked with him many times in my solitude. Studied and listened intently to his words of comfort. I felt that there was no one I knew better, yet still didn’t fully comprehend. But I had a good idea what he had suffered for me and I believed it was not for nothing. Through his sacrifice I could return to his realm and there continue my progress. There were only a few requirements he had given me and I had done my best to fulfill them, enduring to the end. “Am I forgiven My Lord,” I humbly asked?
He pointed to my family, friend and animals that had gathered not far away. “We will talk of your schooling later. Go in peace my child. ”
And I did, running into my mother’s arms then kneeling to engulf White Dove in a ruffled hug. Joyously I greeted each and every one gathered, relatives, friends, and animals.
Only after my mother’s lecture and introduction into my new lodging did I remember what my Lord had said.
School in the here after?
I thought I was through with school.
(This book is all my thoughts and feelings and not due to any ecclesiastical written word. Read it for the enjoyment and try not to take offense for none was meant. Therefore it is all my fault! And I will take the heat or the joy when I meet my maker.)