Way back when, it was Emma’s idea to come here for the first time. We were replacing the flowers on 2nd North at Carillon House, visiting with our elderly friends when Emma asked why we didn’t go to the 4th floor, too. I didn’t have a good answer. So up we went.

We’ve been going every week since.

True to her word, we are back the next morning. Emma and Annie are looking lovely in their high heels and fancy purple skirts that spin out beautifully when they twirl and dance, their number one criteria for the perfect dress.

The twins race to see who can punch the elevator button first. Up to the 4th floor. Vista Care’s inpatient hospice unit is located here. A wonderful facility with caring staff. I was impressed early on with how nurses Elizabeth and Kelli handled Annie and Emma’s questions. Not the least of which was Kelli’s answer to one of the girl’s most significant “why?”. Kelli said, “For some people this is the last place they come before they go to heaven.” Annie and Emma are good with that answer.

On this Saturday morning in addition to dresses and heels, the girls have accessorized their outfits with three bottles of bubbles. It makes perfect sense to them. What else would girls in purple dresses and high heels do? They blow bubbles, of course.

It’s pretty quiet on the floor. After chatting with the nurses, they say goodbye and head back down the hall. There’s an open door to the left. A family they’d left flowers with yesterday. The patient, a gentleman who does not look nearly old enough to be here, and two ladies sitting bedside who appear to be family.

I lean against the inside of the doorway, watching Annie and Emma…be Annie and Emma. Their 2nd grade dialogue about random and disconnected topics, engaging the ladies in their conversation. All the while blowing bubbles, watching them float and trying to catch them without breaking them.

Soon they involve one of the ladies in blowing bubbles, too. Smiles all around. Laughter. The laughter that feels and sounds so free; the unfettered laughter of an adult being a kid again. It’s fresh air in this room.

Emma manages a big double bubble. “Whoa! Look! It’s like a Mommy and Daddy bubble!”

Poof.

Annie says, “Daddy bubble just popped.”

More laughter.

“Try to catch them! See? Look!” With her wand, Emma slides underneath the giant bubble she just blew and raises it up. Against the back light of the window I see the shimmering surface tension just before it pops and disappears.

Here in this room that is the last place some people come before going to heaven, life is being lived to the fullest. I dare say there is nothing more or better that anyone here can do in this moment than to blow bubbles and laugh, to enjoy human companionship and the simple delights of children.

Watching the bubbles hover over the bed, I am reminded that God tells us our life is like a vapor. Just like these bubbles. Delicate and beautiful. Incredibly fragile. Floating and fleeting. And in the time it takes to “ooh” and “ah” and giggle…poof!

They are gone.

It’s time to leave. Emma and Annie hand their bottles to the two ladies. Emma says, “Now you can blow bubbles all day even after we’re gone!”

“Are you sure, girls?”, the ladies want to know.

“No worries”, says Annie, “we’ve got lots of bubbles.”

“LOTS of bubbles!”, Emma affirms.

When you’re 8, it feels like the bubbles will never end.

The man in the bed understands better.

The man in the doorway is understanding that better, too.

“Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while then vanishes.” – James 4:14

 “Teach us to number our days aright, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” – Psalm 90:12  

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

One email came from VJ, a good friend with whom I was on staff at First Baptist Church-Tempe during my seminary days. VJ says, in part…  

“My dear sister Charla has joined the heavenly chorus as of August 29th of this year. Her body just began to fail in many different areas and God in his infinite grace brought her quickly to Himself. As family we had the reassurance that Charla was ready when she told us (in April) “I just want to see Lord Almighty!” We weren’t talking about her sickness or heaven or anything that would have prompted that thought. It has been a great comfort to us.”

Charla was developmentally disabled. She was also confined to a wheelchair, at least every time that I saw her. VJ would sometimes bring Charla to the church during office hours to spend some time while waiting to be picked up for adult day care. I remember her attitude as happy and joyful, a delightful person to be around. She would sit in her wheelchair and greet with a smile everyone who walked by.

What I remember about Charla was that she made me ask questions. Oh, none that I would voice out loud. Rather, silent introspective questions like, “Why her in that chair and not me? Why do I get the benefit of a reasonably sound mind and the opportunity to further my education while Charla will be forever stuck at this level? How is it that I can walk about, fully ambulatory, while she depends on others for transportation and daily care? How fair is it that she doesn’t have a say in changing her condition?”

Obviously there were no satisfactory answers. The questions would linger in my mind for a brief moment, pushed quickly aside by the tasks at hand.

In Matthew 20, Jesus tells the parable of the workers in the vineyard. The owner of the vineyard agrees to pay the workers he hires in the morning a day’s wages. He hires more workers in the third, sixth, ninth and eleventh hours, telling all of them he would pay them what is right. And they all agreed to work.

At the end of the day when they line up to collect their wages, the eleventh hour people are paid a full day’s wage. Those hired in the morning see that and think they will be paid more since they worked longer. But they are paid the same day’s wages, just as they had agreed to.

The point of the parable being, the owner of the vineyard has the right to be generous if he wants to. Jesus finishes the parable by saying, “So the last will be first and the first will be last.”

I’m not sure even the best Biblical scholar knows for certain the full meaning of that sentence. If you would ask me for my two cents, I think it includes people like Charla. Down here she didn’t have the benefits of good health, the opportunity to expand her knowledge, to mature in social relationships. Charla didn’t get to experience the joy of running full tilt down a green grassy hill on a spring day. She didn’t get the satisfaction of living independently, being able to say,“That’s OK, I can do it myself.” She didn’t experience the pride of accomplishment in earning a college degree, a promotion in her career or raising children.

Down here, Charla didn’t get to do a lot of things. Up there, I think it is a much different story for her. I have to believe that Charla discovered on August 29th that, in heaven, she is one of the “firsts”.

When I would see Charla in her wheelchair, sitting in the office at FBC-Tempe, I’d think of Jesus’ words about the “last being first”. And I’d wonder if, just maybe, I was looking at the person who might be my supervisor in heaven.

I guess someday I’ll find out.

If she is, I hope God is putting her in charge of the rose gardens.

Because that’s where I want to work.

Todd A. Thompson - www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

We’ve been buddies ever since.

They say there are “dog people” and “cat people”. I am a dog person. Though I have nothing against felines, I think dog ownership is a significant mark of mental stability. When you hear someone described as having a lot of dogs, you think friendly and fun and chasing Frisbees in a big backyard. Hear the phrase, “big house, lots of cats” and you picture rooms stacked with old newspapers and a woman with the psyche of a tippy canoe. Besides that, I just can’t see paying to keep an animal that is indifferent to you half the time.

One of the reciprocal commands given in the New Testament is to “greet one another”. Palmer made everyone feel welcome. And his watchdog abilities were superb. Door knocks, doorbell rings, cat in the backyard, someone in the alley, garbage truck, all got barked at. I grew to trust his senses. If I thought I heard a noise outside, I’d just look at him. If he didn’t lift his head off the tile where he was chilling, then I went back to my business.

Palmer was a looker. When he was groomed, one of the prettiest dogs I’ve ever seen. Wherever I took him, he got compliments. He was charming, even in his disobedience. Though it was probably a coincidence that he chose to do it on my blind side, during my first semester of seminary he sat right next to me while I was writing a paper and chewed the straps off my backpack. Upset as I was, it was tough to be mad at that face.

I wasn’t the only one who observed that Palmer was very tuned in to people’s emotions. During several episodes of profound sadness and concern, including the deaths of friends and my Dad’s stroke, Palmer would come to where I was sitting, put both paws on my leg and stare at me. If you were crying, he’d stay close till he thought you were ok, then lay down. But always close enough to keep an eye on you.

The lifespan of pets are mile markers in the timeline of a family. When the holiday dinner is finished and reminiscing begins over cups of coffee and slabs of pie you’ll hear someone start a story, struggling to remember the particular year. Coming up empty on the numbers, they’ll pause, and say, “Well, you remember. It was back when Dad had Pete the dog.” And everyone who was around back then smiles and nods. And the memory of old Pete eases them into the recollection, as smoothly as sliding into the seat of that ’67 Chevy pickup Pete used to ride in.

Palmer’s lifespan included significant markers in my life. My first year in seminary. My first house. My last year in seminary. And of course the birth and adoption of my children. When Annie and Emma came home from the neo-natal unit, Palmer kept his distance. He wouldn’t get close to them. Maybe he was hoping that they were only visiting. This went on for a couple months. One evening I was holding the girls on the love seat, one in each arm. I called Palmer over and told him to join us on the cushion. He came over and after some encouragement, reluctantly hopped up but immediately turned and gave us the cold shoulder.

I said, “Look, Palmer. This is Annie. And this is Emma. They are here to stay. You need to be nice because they’re going to grow up and want to play with you.” I turned so he could see them both. He looked at me, gave each of them a lick on the head and jumped back to the floor.

After that, everything was fine.

The last road trip Palmer made was relocating with me to Texas. A younger Palmer would have found a way to get in by himself. But I had to lift him up into the seat because it was too high and he was too old. Driving out and away from our home of many years, I cried and prayed, talking out loud to God and to my dog. Palmer sat in the passenger seat, tongue out, face in front of the air conditioning vents, watching the white lines approach and disappear under the U-Haul; every turn of the tire taking us further away from familiar faces and closer to everything undiscovered.

Palmer died last Thursday. Just three days shy of his 15th birthday. Lots of dogs don’t make it half that long. Chalk it up to a good life, plenty of cool tile and air conditioning in Arizona, and lots of people loving him back for the affection he so freely gave.

The Bible doesn’t say if dogs are in heaven or not. It does say that in the future God will create a “new heaven and a new earth”. We don’t know what that will look like. Yet it stands to reason that if God’s first created earth had dogs and He pronounced it “good”, then the new earth will probably will have plenty of room for all the Fido’s and Rover’s and Palmer’s to run and play. 

I sure hope so.

“Heaven goes by favour. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in.”

- Mark Twain

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

The girls and I have a way of cramming a lot of theological discussion into the 15-minute drive to 1st grade.

Annie wonders out loud, “So we’ll get to see all our friends up there, right?”

Her question unknowingly intersected with my homesickness. I really miss all my friends back in the Phoenix valley. The people here in this new place have been more than kind. It’s made the hard work of starting life over not quite as daunting. Still, they are all new. Everything is new here. It’s the difference between the brand new loveseat at the furniture showroom and the favorite couch at your best friend’s house. The difference between sitting gently and not for long and flopping down, hugging a pillow and settling in for the entire four quarters of Monday Night Football.

New takes time to become comfortable.

Emma must have caught my expression in the rear view mirror. “Are you okay, Daddy?”

“I’m fine, baby.”

I thought she’d press the question. But it’s like she knew what I was thinking.

“You’ll make new friends here, Daddy.”

Who is this kid? Ten minutes ago we were standing in front of the bathroom mirror battling over ponytail vs. “some up, some down”. Now she’s Yoda, the life coach with a Hello Kitty backpack.

“That’s right, Daddy.” Annie joins. I love when they do this. The twin dynamic never ceases to intrigue me. They share a brain. And whatever thought they offer is delivered in stereo.  “It’s just like the song we sing at Girl Scouts, Daddy.”

I was going to ask what song but all Annie had to do was sing the first word and by the next eighth note Emma was in perfect sync and perfect pitch.

“Make new friends, but keep the old.

One is silver and the other is gold.

A circle is round, it has no end.

That’s how long I want to be your friend.”

A relational reality of living in a fallen world is that those we love are never “all together”. Even perfect attendance reunions of friends and family are only momentary distractions; a weekend glimpse of what life would be like without separation. When everyone gets in their car to go home, we all go back to loving from a distance.

The Bible says that no one can imagine what God has prepared for us in heaven. That we can count on. No one does surprises like God. And just think what He can do with all this time to prepare? And while I can’t point to chapter and verse to back this up, I have to believe a big part of heaven will be enjoying all the friends we’ve ever made without the tyranny of a fixed schedule. There is a freedom in “forever”. Not the least of which is never having to say the word “good-bye” again.

Till then God calls us to “…one another” one another. Pray for one another. Bear one another’s burdens. Encourage one another. Cry with one another. Laugh with one another. Serve one another. Forbear and forgive one another.

We do this where we live, wherever we live. Making new friends. Silver, perhaps, for the moment. But they will all be gold up there.

With no end.

“Eye has not seen nor ear heard what God has prepared for those who love Him.”

- 1 Corinthians 2:9

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

We are loaded down with the weight of living in a fallen world. Even our best days are sprinkled with sadness, disappointments and tears. And on our worst days we feel like it will never end.

The good news is that Jesus died that we might have life after this fallen world. The day is coming when the weight of our imperfections will be lifted for eternity. Heaven is a real place. A place of redemption, restoration, reunion, and rejoicing.

(Presented to Hope Covenant Church – Chandler, AZ – 11/20/2005)

It’s safe to say that when you’re trying to get somewhere, the higher the level of urgency, the greater the need for accurate directions. If you need directions to the hospital emergency room you don’t want to guess which street it’s on. If you ask for directions to the Circle K and they turn out to be wrong, just drive another block and you’ll find one.

When it comes to directions on how to get to heaven, does it really matter what road you take?

Religions of the world share common ground in that they all have some degree of moral code. Where religions begin to part company with one another is when the question is asked, “What is eternal salvation and how can I attain it?”

(Presented 8/1/2004 – Hope Covenant Church – Chandler, AZ)