Write Again … We have our hopes
It would seem only natural for anyone who has lived a long life to contemplate the end of the journey.
As our former, now retired, pastor Danny Allen said, “We are all going to lay this tired old body down.” Believe it.
In my hopes for what the next “dimension” might bring – and we all have our hopes, do we not? – I look forward to being once again with my family members. I miss my parents, and I want to tell them I love them, and am grateful beyond measure for all they did and provided.
Of course I’d want to see my maternal grandparents. They were farm people, and lived in Edgecombe County. My grandfather had very little formal education, but a true work ethic. My grandmother was a typical hard working farm wife, and was well spoken and quite literate. She liked poetry. I liked her cooking! Most of it during her life done on a wood burning “cook stove,” and a house without running water until I was ten or so.
My father’s parents I never knew. My grandfather was a dentist, and died when my father was twelve years old. My grandmother died when I was very young.
My point being I hope to be with all of them one day. Hope is a good thing.
There are so many, many people – souls – I hope to see again. Most of us feel this way, wouldn’t you think? I like to think of it as the best reunion of all. And, of course, all my pets, down through the years, will be there.
We have a wall plaque in our kitchen that says “Heaven’s the place where all the dogs you’ve ever loved come to greet you.” May it be so.
All of this may just be wishful hoping, ungrounded in any verifiable reality. Simply believing something, hoping for something, doesn’t make it become a reality, whether it’s a religious belief or otherwise.
But hope can be a beautiful thing.
APROPOS — “The heaven of each is but what each desires.”
— Thomas Moore (1817)