What do I think Heaven will be like?
I’m not worthy even to make answer.
“Such knowledge is too wonderful for me.”
Words fail. That said, let me paint an image.
The city is soaked in a slow, cold rain.
I am driving to work. Distracted. Disconnected.
Passing the interaction of 3rd and Riverside,
I briefly notice a light in the single upstairs window
of a green paneled house, itself in disrepair.
Barely taking note, I continue my mindless drive.
Meanwhile, behind that window, a little girl
with a withered leg lies in bed, crying softly,
while her brother, barely a year older than she,
enters the room, turning on the light.
She is frightened, having seen and heard
in her life pains no child should ever have known.
Brother brings her a blanket, telling her
all will be well. He says he knows this
because he dreamed last night that God,
up in Heaven, had heard her crying,
and reached down with a warm robe
and wrapped her inside it. And he sang to her
and told her he would protect and comfort her
all her live-long life because he loves her so.
And is proud of her because she is His child.
He tells her that he knows her faults and fears,
and he has sent a slow, cold rain to wash them away
so that he can hold her more warmly in the robe and blanket.
Then brother sat beside her and dried her tears
with the blanket and sang her a song he knew she loved.
And there, as raindrops streaked the window
of the tiny upstairs room, by the soft glow of lamplight
a little girl and her brother held each other
safely, completely, lovingly…and the little girl said
“God sent you to make me feel better.”
And brother said, “You make me feel better, too.
And I’ll be here for you forever because that’s
what God promised He would do. Just then,
God smiled and turned down the covers
in the mansion’s upstairs bedroom
and tucked the two children safely to sleep.
What do I think Heaven will be like?
I think it may be, in small ways, something like that.