In Heaven It Will Always Be October

There is a large tree outside of my kitchen window that I love to watch (and talk to, but don't tell anyone) when I drink coffee in the morning. Technically, it's my neighbor's tree, but I know it likes me better so I claim it as mine. I watch my tree throughout the seasons as it's leaves get thick and green in the spring, hang on for dear life in the summer and burn with color in the fall . I always think it looks darkly defiant in winter when it stands naked against ice, wind and freezing rain. It doesn't make much sense to me why trees lose their leaves in the coldest months, when logic would suggest that they could use a good winter coat. I wonder if they get hot in the summer when they are covered in bulky leaves and the sticky heat lays heavy on them. Does my tree get annoyed by birds and the wrought-iron bird feeder my neighbor hung on it's branches? Does it itch when bugs crawl up it's trunk and get bored just standing there all the time? Would it like some hot cocoa? It's good to know there will be trees in heaven.

When I was a little girl I didn't really want to go to heaven.

I imagined I would be really bored when the only thing there are these golden streets and trees of life and stuff. I mean the sea is made of glass, so what fun is that? I can't even go in the water! Of course, I didn't want to go to hell either, so I figured boredom was better than worms eating my flesh and fire burning me forever. (I had a second grade teacher who taught about hell in great detail, and I would wake up with nightmares that I was being sauteed in a frying pan.) Yep, definitely going with boredom.

My discontent with the idea of heaven turned into absolute terror at the concept of living forever.

Our minds can only comprehend time with a beginning and an end, so I couldn't wrap my 12 year old sensibility around such an abstract notion. Eternity was like a sinister monster in the closet that lingered with spine-chilling tenacity. Unlike imaginary monsters, this monster was eventually coming for me whether I liked it or not. I began to have panic attacks and remember pacing around my room in a cold sweat just begging Jesus to help me not think about it. He always did, but the looming fear of the next panic session haunted much of my young life. I never confessed my anxiety to anyone because the fear of even mentioning it would surely trigger another episode. Whenever a Pastor would teach about heaven, hell, the afterlife, the rapture or any other related subjects, I taught myself to escape in my mind to somewhere else.....somewhere finite. I'd sneak away to a nice place where things were sensible enough to have a beginning and an end.

I remember being in youth group and the speaker was telling us how heaven would be one, long worship service. I'm sure that in his mind he meant this to be a comfort, but it seriously made me reconsider worms, fire and eternal darkness. Somewhere hidden in my awareness I began to see heaven as a total drag.

As an adult, the weariness, heaviness, pain and loss of life became something tangible to me.

The realities of how incomplete life on earth is made me reconsider my opinions on the afterlife. Life on earth is all about need. We all have so much need. This is why we sleep, eat, drink, get married, have babies and work. When we really ponder the perfection of heaven, it is a great joy to grasp the fact that in heaven there will be no need. Every eye will see and every ear will hear with flawless clarity. There will be no arthritis, cancer, birth defects or loss of any kind. We will have endless energy and strength, and will be reunited with loved ones who have gone before.

When I was an apprehensive youngster distressed by incomprehensible concepts, God gave me a dream.

I truly believe the dream was from God because of the peace that accompanied it. My image of heaven was about to change. What I once saw as a murky grayed-out watercolor, was one night away from becoming a vivid portrait, rich with radiant color and light. The warmth and vibrancy of the dream was unlike anything I had ever envisioned. I was in an ice cream parlor and Jesus was the waiter. He was wearing a white and red striped shirt, black pants held up with suspenders and a black bow-tie. His face literally shined with delight, and His cheeks were flushed with a ruddy glow. The depth and warmth of the yellow-hued light matched the earnest joy that saturated the entire atmosphere. The restaurant was overflowing with people and yet Jesus could give each one the same constant attention. When I was sitting at a golden table submerged in the ambience, I just understood. I asked Jesus, "Is this heaven?". I don't remember exactly what He said but it was something along the lines of, "Yes! And it's not anything like you pictured is it? I'm so glad you are finally here". He was right. Heaven was not about being alone. Heaven was not about forcing myself to lay eternally prostrate while feeling nothing more than lucky to be there. Heaven was about hanging out with Jesus and being surrounded with ice cream, games, tons of people, and more love than I ever knew could exist. I didn't even want the ice cream. I just wanted to sit with Jesus.

So what does a tree have to do with heaven?

As I have grown older, visions of ice-cream parlors, Saturday morning cartoons, roller skates and carousels have faded into more grown up tastes. The emotions that were summoned by these simplicities are now the same feelings that whisper to me when I look at my tree. I am overwhelmed by the beauty of nature in October when the dirt is always just a little muddy and the world becomes shadowy and rustic. The air is colder, the sun is kinder, and coffee just tastes so much better. I no longer wish for heaven to be an ice cream parlor. The Bible describes heaven as a great city with a river flowing from the throne of God and down the main street. On either side of the street are fruit trees. Don't get me wrong, I'm totally into the city thing as well. I can't wait to see what that will be like. I imagine it like my time living in New York minus the rats and roaches.

It's midnight and I just walked outside and saw a shooting star. Score another point for October.