Sunday the tiniest thought came into my mind, like a whisper that continues to swell and develop.
In the first week of year 8 at school I could not imagine what it would be like to be a sixth former or even working for a living. There were places that we could not go, like the sixth form common room. But once a sixth former there were staff rooms out of bounds, mysterious and ominous to our imagination.
Then to university, again researchers’ labs were closed without special invite. They would be full of intrigue and knowledge too deep for a mere undergrad. And so to work where you knew your place, the directors’ suite being a hallowed closed door. And even when gaining rungs on the ladder places like the oil odoured engineers’ shop and watery effluent works would have been considered far to risky to welcome a suited manager, “best to keep you out”.
Yet I knew that some of my colleagues went in to these places, but not me, not us.
On Sunday my whispering mind said “do you believe in life post death, call it heaven, life eternal, gone to glory or what you will?”
I thought to myself, what is belief? I believed in all those closed forbidden places in my life, but had no knowledge of them, nor any expectation of being allowed in. Though I knew of those who did enter. Thus my life’s experience predicts my expectation.
I do believe in it, just as I believe in molecular structures, existing but not seen by me, both as documented by their own experts.
And I can think of those who may well have entered
the realms of heaven. But me? No.
From experience I don’t get to enter the higher sanctums,
that is for the chosen few who have achieved
some deserving merit or award, they go.
But for me I know, no, history tells me so, I don’t go.
Thus I do not imagine myself there or even at the door, knocking.
The whisper says “What if? What if you are invited
and welcomed not because of what you have done,
nor achieved but because you are loved and wanted, whatever.
What if those you knew are here and you can join them?
It is me who knocks on your door, not you on mine. Think on that..”
I thought on that and began to imagine, and to imagine.
If my world born view wins the day then, hey so be it, I won’t know.
But what if it is as we have been told? If only!
And they and He will be “there” somehow, and me allowed,
yes, welcomed too.
The surge of joy was followed by the thought ..
What if I was there and others that I loved were not?
And so, though this blog does not rhyme, nor funny
nor yet about my boat how can I not say,
“I hope to see you there.”