Heaven's First Hour

If I die, I really hope there's a window of time that Saint Paul or the apostles or one of God's innumerous henchmen allows me to take stock on the life I just left behind. I've heard from several people who visited there that once you die and go to Heaven, all the friends and feelings; lovers, joys, sorrows, our favorite songs and movies will no longer carry any meaning for us.
They say that up in Heaven we are both embraced and expanded.

Okay. That's cool. But I'd like to believe that the newly dead get a modicum of time to reflect before it's all washed away. I'd like to believe that right as the biggest mystery of both Heaven and Earth is at the precipice of becoming revealed, we get to ask for clarification on a few of our own personal mysteries.

I imagine my opening Q&A with God might go something like this:

"Who killed JFK?" says Adam innocently.
Without blinking - because God doesn't blink - He replies, "Oswald."
Adam's eyes confusedly search the clouds for answers. None come. He is torn between disbelief in God's divine word and the realization that, in his current state of being, disbelief in God's word seems fairly ludicrous.
God says, "Oh, don't look so surprised. Stranger things have happened."
Adam pauses a moment, pondering whether he really wants to inquire about what God means by this.
"What do you mean by that, God?"
"First of all," says God. "You're in Heaven now. Feel free to call me Josh..."
Adam makes a mental note of this.
"Second of all, if we're talking about strange things, why don't you explain why you never spoke to Clara O'Dell at any point in high school. You loved her, that's why I made her best friends with the girl at the locker right next to yours," God said teasingly. God had a way about him that allowed him to get away with mocking most of the eternal souls that he encountered.
"Oh man! Clara liked me?! How'd I miss that?"
Adam stops a moment to think, then looks up at the blinding light that he's deduced to be God and continues, "Why didn't You give me a sign or something?"
God laughs. His laugh was deafening.
"Don't blame me, kiddo," reasoned God. "I put Clara in your proximity, but you always seemed more interested in hanging pictures of Meg Ryan in your locker. You can lead a horse to water, y'know?"
Being all-knowing often made one quite reasonable
"You coulda done better by me, Josh," Adam frustratingly says.
"Don't push it. You're here aren't you?"
Adam says nothing, considereing instead about changing the subject by asking God about the O.J. Simpson case.
God continues, "Clara will be here in about 14 years. You can have another shot at her then if you'd like."
"Fourteen years?!"
"Don't worry, the time goes much faster than you'd think."
Adam nods his head slightly, not sure what to think about anything. Having a convesation with God is kinda heavy and mind-blowing and it was taking it's toll on Adam.
God continues, "But Adam, when she gets here, you're on your own."

I'd also like to believe that God has a sense of humor and gossips like one of the kids from "Laguna Beach."

When life on earth is over, I really don't want it to end cold. I'm not sure anyone really wants that. The argument could be made that human nature's desire to belong to a bigger picture is the foundation upon which religion itself was built. I want fanfare and rememberance if I die. I'm not talking about a funeral. Funerals are for the people left behind. I'm talking about that first hour one arrives in Heaven. I'd like to believe that each of us gets one hour to reflect on the life we finshed living. I'd like to rewatch the major portions of my life on a bank of monitors equipped with the ability to queue video from my life on Earth (imagine a control room from the average television news station - only with angels singing somewhere nearby).

My favorite part of the Academy Awards are the montages. Whether it's a Western movie montage or a montage of classic New York scenes or famous romatic kisses, watching recognizable things in rapid succession is my bread 'n' butter. And because it's my bread 'n' butter and because I feel Heaven is Heaven because it supplies everyone in it with their own idea of a perfect existence. This is why I believe that if I want a montage or two of my life - I'm damned sure gonna get it.*

My first montage would almost certainly be composed of the funniest things to ever happen to me. Think about how awesome it would be to see images of the top 20 funniest things to ever happen to you. You probably can't readily remember the 20 funniest occurences in your life. Honestly, can you even remember five of them? But there'd you'd sit, in a comfortable Laz-e-boy (or the Heavenly equivalent) watching clip after clip, laughing your ass off realizing that yes, in fact, that was one of the funniest things to ever happen to you.

Then I'd have "Heaven"** spool me up a series of clips (digital or film, depending on the year each clip is from) showcasing the biggest secrets my friends and family kept from me. In an hour, none of it's going to matter anyway, I might as well find out what my friends actually said behind my back, whether that girlfriend I suspected of cheating actually did and all the lies my children ended up getting over on me.

Children lie to their parents - it happens. I'm just aiming to catch them at least two-thirds of the time.

I once thought I understood people and I included myself as one of the people I thought I understood. As I get older, I'm willing to conceed that I don't understand myself, let alone anyone else. All of this further illustrates my desire - when my bucket gets kicked - to have some ethereal force render everything more sensical to me.

I'd like to believe that eventually, something is going to explain why Clara O'Dell and I never fell in love. Explanations as to why I was born with a big forehead and protruding ears will become evident. I'll know what truly happened to my childhood security blanket that I fell asleep with each night (I suspect Mom threw it away). And I might even solve the greatest of all Shafer family mysteries: whether or not my sister hugged Princess Diana on June 6, 1992. ***
I want answers dammit and if I die and I don't get them - I'm gonna be pretty friggin' unpleased.

Before my mind gets wiped clean like the humans who witness alien encounters in "Men In Black", I want reflection to be sure, but I'd also appreciate a ranking. I'd like to think that upon request, I can get a printout of the "goodness ratings" for every resident of Heaven.
Do I outrank my ex-girlfriends?
How about Mother Theresa and Martin Luther?
Did any of my bosses even make it into Heaven?
And while I'm sure I'll find Elvis Presley in Heaven, I wonder what version of him I'll find.
I'd hate to think that I'm gonna get up there and see the King's gutfat hanging past his sequins jumpsuit. That ain't no kind of heaven, jack.

So maybe I'm being childish. Maybe I'm taking Heaven too lightly. But it's better to openly greet Heaven than to fear it, right? The ascent is gonna be the party to end all parties (and technically, I guess it is the end of all parties).
Let's be honest, who wouldn't like to rewatch Bobby Smith lining your bedroom with rose petals in leu of asking you to Homecoming? Lord knows that was the highlight of my senior year.
Wouldn't you like to see your game winning homerun? Your first kiss? The moment you said "I do"? Wouldn't you like to see the first time your infant son smiles at you one last time before it's gone forever? Wouldn't you want one last private hurrah of your life before none of it means anything?
I'd like to think our lives matter and that we find their meanings in our deaths. Wouldn't you like to know your rank? What you meant to the world, even if it's represented by something as simple as a single number.
Maybe we're all created equal, but we aren't destroyed that way. Have you ever seen those acrobats from the Cirque Du Soleil? Those guys are amazing. Do you mean to tell me that those spinning-twirling flame-throwing acrobats from The Cirque Du Soleil are equal to me; a guy barely able to rub his stomach and pat his head?
No. We're not equal in God's eyes or my own. I want to know where I stood when I was alive.
I want to understand God's plan for me and give explanation for something as seemingly illogical as a human life - my human life.

I just want it all to mean something. And also, imagine how kickass the montage music could be.

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* What do you think the word "damned" means in Heaven? I feel like once you make it there, damnation no longer means anything. It's like saying the word "sqwarfed". The letters are there, they sound like something, but in actuality... the word means nothing.

** I don't really know how they allocate jobs in Heaven and therefore I don't want to assume St. Peter spools up the video. I'd hate to offend Peter, Zeus, Hermes or whoever it may be that actually is employed in the Montage Department in the Sky by claiming someone else as being responsible for the task.
The mythological Greeks are Heaven's employees, right?

Anyway, until I get there, I'll just label the Head of Heavenly Montage as "Heaven".

*** My mother and my sister visited Chicago's Northwestern Memorial Hospital the day after my 12th birthday to catch a glimpse of the famous icon in her first trip to Chicago.
And while they both agree they saw the Princess, my sister swears she was allowed to scurry up to the front of the barricade alongside many other children where the Princess hugged her.
My mom says this never happened and questions the circumstances in which she would ever let her 7-year-old daughter scamper out of sight in a crowd of thousands.
To this day, my mother and sister are positive their story is the correct account. I'm dying to find out and frankly, it looks like death is going to be the quickest way to find out.


Monday. March 25, 2002