It was a place unlike any other I’d encountered. I almost had to pinch to convince myself it was real.
But real it was. And my senses, some flagging a bit, were restored to their original powers in my prime. Things were brighter, and clearer, than they’d been in years.
I’d read about this place. Others had written of it. And what they’d said was true. It was beyond what I’d imagined — what I could have imagined. It exceeded my expectations in so many ways.
Everything was perfect. There were no flaws. Nothing out of place. There was universal harmony, and concordance. No wrong notes. No arrhythmia. The dulcet sounds of songbirds. A cornucopia of flower color. There would be no work for Marie Kondo (she of the “The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up” bestseller).
I rubbed my eyes.
Then I saw him.
He was about to pluck one of the lovely fruit that hung from a low branch. He was taller and a fine looking fellow. The hem of his white garment was scarlet.
I went over to introduce myself. But it was as if he anticipated me, and held out a hand. “I’m Abel,” he smiled.
I sort of knew, but asked anyway. “So, what’s your story? How did you get here?”
“I got here like the rest of you — by grace. My story?”
He slowly rubbed his smooth chin, then continued.
“I was out in the field. Tending sheep. My brother Cain was a gardener. We had been talking, but had not reached agreement. All of a sudden I felt a tremendous pain in the back of my head. I think I’d been hit by a rock. I fell down, and didn’t get up. Next thing I knew, I was here. What about you?”
“I’ll tell you. But it can wait. I see someone else I think I recognize.” And I turned on my heel.
It was incredibly bright.
Yet, somehow, the light didn’t bother my eyes. I felt no need for shade.
I spied a young woman sitting by a stream. On either side of the stream was a tree, which had split and had two trunks.
The young woman had a scarlet cord around her neck. It reminded me of the scarlet letter “A” Hester Prynne wore in Nathanael Hawthorne’s novel, only this one seemed to carry no opprobrium. It seemed to be for identification, not castigation.
It was the same color as the hem of Abel’s garment.
I went up to her. She smiled and motioned for me to sit.
I did, and returned her smile.
“Who are you?” She asked.
I told her and briefly described how I came to be there.
Then it was my turn.
“Don’t tell me,” I said. “Let me guess.”
She held her tongue.
“Rahab.”
She nodded.
“The scarlet cord gave you away.”
“I think I was meant to wear it for a reason.”
“It’s not unbecoming,” I commented. It seemed to match the rest of her apparel nicely.
She was about to bite into a delicious looking fruit.
“I think I may live forever,” she said.
“Isn’t that part of the plan?” I smiled, and walked on.
I came to a street, one of many in the city. Its surface was incredibly shiny. I stepped onto it, but gingerly. It wasn’t slippery, but resembled gold. I walked more confidently.
I looked down. The hem of my garment was scarlet, similar in color to the cord Rahab wore around her neck and to the hem of Abel’s garment.
I glanced at the garments of others. Some had scarlet hems; others did not.
The garment wearers didn’t seem to notice.
I recalled another city, from another time. One with rough streets, not smooth ones paved with gold. And rude people.
I looked up.
Walking toward me, staff in hand, was someone who looked vaguely familiar. As he approached, I noticed an insignia of tablets of stone emblazoned on the breast of his garment.
“Why, it’s — no, it can’t be; yes, it is! Moses!” And I pumped his hand.
He smiled. Behind his heavy beard, his eyes twinkled.
“And what might your story be, young man?”
I told him.
But, during the telling, he stopped me.
“You know, now I remember,” he said. “We were mightily pleased with how you conducted yourself that day.”
“And you,” I said. “How has it been with you?”
“Wonderful. Just wonderful.”
“How do you pass the time, if I may ask?”
“You may. Time? It has no meaning. A thousand years is as a day. And a day is as a thousand years.”
I shook my head. “I can’t fathom it.”
“You will, son. You will.”
And, with a wave of his staff, he continued on his journey. I noticed his sandals didn’t show wear. They looked as good as new.
There were people everywhere. Most were strangers, but I thought I recognized a few faces.
Then I saw her. She was petting a lamb, which was munching on what looked like clover. To her left was a wolf, patiently waiting its turn. To be petted, that is. Not eat clover. But maybe that, too. One couldn’t be too sure.
On her lap was a small container of what I thought might be a spice, or fragrance. The surrounding air smelled particularly nice.
She was a pretty woman, with large, luminous eyes. Her garment was flowing.
I went up to her and held out a hand. She took it.
“Might you be Mary?” I asked. “Mary Magdalene?”
“I might,” she said softly. “I might at that.” Her smile only added to the pervasive aura of happiness.
I didn’t want to ask, but was curious.
“What was it like, to be cured of demon possession? Not once, but 7 times?”
“I’m forever grateful to the Master. Not only then, but now. Here.” And she waved a slender hand.
“And your sister, Martha? Is she here?”
“I’ve looked for her.”
I declined to inquire further.
“I see you’re an animal lover.”
She smiled. “I had a pet donkey once. The Master borrowed it to ride into Jerusalem. What an honor.”
There was more. Much more.
Everyone had a different story, and they were all wonderful and memorable.
Yours, too, may be.
My name is Stephen.
