A Moment of Clarity
This morning, I stood on the steps and waved goodbye to Abby as she climbed into the bus. As I turned to go in the house, my foot teetered on the step and my arms pinwheeled for a moment, and I fought gravity's relentless pull toward the earth. Undoubtedly, had I fallen, I would have smashed my head against the pavement and suffered a fractured skull and a subdural hematoma. It would have been the end.
In that moment, with complete clarity, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Saw Abby's schoolmates howling with mirth as her mom plunged down the steps. Saw Tim screaming "Noooooooooooo" as I fell to the earth. Felt my soul separate from my body and wing its way toward heaven.
Whereupon I was greeted at the gates by St. Peter, who said in no uncertain terms "Oh no, you aren't coming in here."
"But why not?" I whined. "I've been good. I go to church every...well, ok, ALMOST every Sunday. I do good deeds. I should get to come in."
"Yeah, right," he snorted derisively. "You...good??" He whipped a book out of his pocket and consulted it. "Says here you read dirty magazines when you were in high school."
I stared in disbelief. "Everyone reads dirty magazines in high school," I said.
"But you memorized them," he reminded me.
"Oh, right, forgot about that. But there was that great story in Penthouse about the guy who got funky with a roast chicken....never mind," I said quickly. "Still, I have done lots of nice things for other people."
"Hmmm, says here you gossiped on a daily basis about everyone and everything," he said.
"Never, ever about anything important though," I reminded him. "I only gossiped about the little things. And really, if everyone would have just listened to me and done things my way, the world would have been a better place. Right?"
He looked at me for a minute, shook his head and then went back to the list. "And what about this "BLOG" thing?" he asked. "Very scatological in nature. Nothing in it promoting the glory of God. Instead, you wrote about poop and drinking. Not exactly praising the lord were we?"
"Well, uh, I made people laugh with it," I said defensively. "Isn't that a good thing."
"It is when you don't use toilet jokes to do it," he said dismissively. "I'm afraid I can't sign off on your entry to heaven. You'll have to go to Hell and see what Satan says." He flicked a hand and I was off, tumbling through the cosmos, heading down to a warmer climate.
Whereupon I was greeted at the gates by the Prince of Darkness himself (and no, I don't mean Ozzie Osbourne). "I'm afraid I can't let you in," he said, before I could even open my mouth.
"What?" I asked, feeling somewhat offended now.
"We don't need you 'blogger' types here," he said scathingly. "It's bad enough we have the lawyers. The place is already full of bullshit and hot air. So move on," he said, and he looked a bit menacing.
"But, but...." I stammered, "they've already kicked me out of heaven. Where am I supposed to go? Besides, all my friends are here," I said, waving at a few familiar faces.
"Hmmm, sounds like a personal problem to me," he said sarcastically. He waved a hand and I went plunging through the cosmos again and found myself at the doors of Wal-Mart.
I was greeted by a chipper old lady in a blue smock who said "I'm afraid you can't come in here."
By now, I was a little tired of the whole, out-of-body thing. "Why not?" I asked wearily.
"You used your blog to deny all the good the Walton family has done," she said. "When I think of how many times you mocked our little yellow happy face for just doing his job..." She sniffled and pulled a lacy hanky out of her smock. "No, I'm afraid purgatory is not for you."
This was too much. Wal-Mart is purgatory and I can't even get in the door?? "Everyone makes fun of Wal-Mart," I snarled at her. "It's the new national past time. Who watches baseball anymore?"
I looked over her shoulder, through the doors, and I could see happy people pushing their carts through endless aisles of merchandise, all of it made in China. I saw a whole display of Nora Roberts paperbacks, marked down to $4.88. I had to get through the door.
"Please, please, please," I whined, pulling at her smock. "I have nowhere else to go. You have to let me come in..pleeeeeeeaaaaaaasssssssssse?"
She just looked at me and waved her hand and in an instant, I was back on my front porch step, and I found my footing, just before I plunged.
I came into the house and sat down at the computer to blog about the whole thing before I forgot all the details. After all, I'm not dead yet. There's still time for me to redeem myself before I have to meet my Maker. So I think I'm going to the gas station to buy this month's Penthouse!
