POPPA
I have odd ideas about Heaven. I guess it was because it was something I grew up with but one of the ways I picture Heaven is as a small-town 4th of July carnival.
All of us run here and there going on rides, playing games, winning prizes and eating and/or drinking this and that. And there’s God off to one side keeping our prizes and food straight, handing out tickets, checking and rechecking the carnival’s schedule and herding all of us over to watch the fireworks, which kick ass every single year.
Or we’re all spending the day in the country. All of us are climbing on something over here, jumping into the water over there, gaping at the wildlife in another place or all three while God is off to one side again, looking worried and urging us to be careful.
At the end of the day, however we spend it, you and I are in the back seats of the family car dozing off while God is in the front seat driving us home to the mansions His Son prepared for us.
Why do I think that? Two reasons. Do you know what I miss the most about my job? It’s not a regular paycheck or being on a health care plan or anything like that. It’s the sound of the voices of really little kids.
My job didn’t pay very well and will probably pay a whole lot less in the future but believe me when I say that despite the low salary, it doesn’t even remotely suck to work in a place that little kids are really excited to come to.
I don’t know if parents tune this out or not; as someone who has never had a child and never will, I fervently pray that they never do. There’s a happiness in young voices, an unbounded joy which life has not yet beaten out of them.
The other reason is the look on this little guy’s face.
All of us run here and there going on rides, playing games, winning prizes and eating and/or drinking this and that. And there’s God off to one side keeping our prizes and food straight, handing out tickets, checking and rechecking the carnival’s schedule and herding all of us over to watch the fireworks, which kick ass every single year.
Or we’re all spending the day in the country. All of us are climbing on something over here, jumping into the water over there, gaping at the wildlife in another place or all three while God is off to one side again, looking worried and urging us to be careful.
At the end of the day, however we spend it, you and I are in the back seats of the family car dozing off while God is in the front seat driving us home to the mansions His Son prepared for us.
Why do I think that? Two reasons. Do you know what I miss the most about my job? It’s not a regular paycheck or being on a health care plan or anything like that. It’s the sound of the voices of really little kids.
My job didn’t pay very well and will probably pay a whole lot less in the future but believe me when I say that despite the low salary, it doesn’t even remotely suck to work in a place that little kids are really excited to come to.
I don’t know if parents tune this out or not; as someone who has never had a child and never will, I fervently pray that they never do. There’s a happiness in young voices, an unbounded joy which life has not yet beaten out of them.
The other reason is the look on this little guy’s face.
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