A series of my late grandmother’s favorite books.
I like to think about heaven sometimes and imagine it as a place with unlimited books and unlimited time to read them all. There are rooms and rooms full of old favorites and new ones picked especially for me. This is where I go to be alone, my heart full of worship to a God who allowed us to be so creative and thoughtful and gave us language and heartbreak and story. I curl up in the most comfortable chair, which is situated by an enormous fireplace that keeps me perfectly warm and contented. And even as I read, my mind fully engaged, my heart knows that this is a gift from God and worships Him in quiet.
And when I want to take a break from reading, not from boredom, but because I finished the most wonderful story and my mind needs time to hold it in and turn it over and process and wonder at what I’ve just read, I wander into the craft room. This room is full of unlimited supplies and I am full of unlimited talent and creativity. Here I create a masterpiece of epic proportions and skill.
There are other people in this room, and we bond over shared projects, while I admire their unique creativity, and they admire mine. We worship God over over shared, and yet somehow vastly different, interests. How could He have created such beings? So alike and so different and so able to create new and wonderful things?
I finish my project and in my delight, I soar instead of walk to the next room, which is full of instruments and music and every emotion imaginable, expressed and unexpressed, through song.
Some people in this room I knew from the craft room already, but some faces are new to me. But I am not nervous or embarrassed or ashamed by my lack of talent. Because here we are all equals, we are all unique, and beautiful, and skilled in our own amazing, new ways.
I sit at the piano and my fingers instinctively know how to play the music that is in my heart. It is deep and full-bodied. It starts low, crying out to God, asking to know him better. But soon the music turns uplifting, even as my prayer is answered and I know Him better. My soul lifts from my body, dancing in worship, crying and laughing, in tears and jubilation, my fingers back at my body dancing over the keys in perfect rhythm and melody.
Here, in heaven, everything I make is unique, and epic, and glorious.
I finish the day over a meal that has been prepared by friends and family who spent the day in the kitchens, not out of duty or obligation, but out of the joy of cooking. Again, I am presented with old favorites from my time on earth, but also with new dishes with tastes and flavors that appeal just to me. And I don’t worry about my waistline or about calories or what I look like as I dig in to the most scrumptious meal I have ever tasted.
I am sitting between my two grandmothers, who I had lost in my lifetime on earth, but had greeted me with hugs when I had arrived here in heaven. I remember their beauty had astounded me, as on earth they had been quite old by the time I came around. But here they were their truest selves, and I adored them more than ever.
The rest of the table is filled with old friends and new, and we sit in perfect harmony, laughing and praising and loving our King. Soon He joins us at our table, and our joy is made complete in His company. He laughs with us, and when I catch His eye, my very being is shaken in His look: He knows me, really knows me, and He loves me.
Even as I think these things about heaven, I realize He has given us a foretaste of these things here on earth. They aren’t perfect, but if I look around and notice, I can see it. And even now, I know that when He looks at me, He knows me - really knows me - and He loves me.