Just Like Heaven

It is truly amazing how much stuff you can accumulate in a such a small house over the course of seven years. Hubby and I have begun the process of packing up our shack in preparation for July's move, and with the delivery of fresh cardboard boxes, I'm predicting less time to post as I pack all of our crap in half hour increments when I can distract the baby with Bob the Builder.

I did find some time to relax this weekend when H went out to play cards with some friends and in an effort to stay up past nine thirty on a Saturday night, I watched the mildly tear-jerking, post-rehab family drama Rachel Getting Married. While the movie itself was not all that memorable, there was a line spoken by the groom's seemingly semi-retarded, overly religious sister during her wedding toast. "This is what it's like in heaven." And I thought, what an amazing concept. Heaven, at least the one I believe in, would be just like my wedding. All the people I love in the same room, celebrating, eating good food and dancing, and, of course, I get to wear a fabulous dress.

Then I got to thinking about the concept of heaven in general. Since our new found religiosity, and subsequent regular church attendance, the word "heaven" has been flying around a lot lately. Sitting in church, I've spent some time thinking about the Catholic version of heaven and it does raise some interesting questions. For example, if we all meet in heaven, do we meet at the age we died? It might be pretty depressing for my dad to meet up again with my mom forty years later and he looks like a raisin and she's all cute. Speaking of my remarried father, there would be some pretty sticky situations in heaven. Since my mother was very jealous on earth, how would she react when my stepmother shows up? Although, knowing how sweet my stepmom is, my mother would love her within two seconds of meeting her, they'd become fast friends, and my father would wind up spending eternity listening to what an asshole he is.

And who exactly get into heaven? According to what some people believe, whether or not JC is your savior determines whether you get a ticket to paradise. What of sinners and their entrance through the pearly gates? The church tells us all sins are forgiven by God, but does a contrite and confessed murderer get to see his victims for eternity? The Catholic church used to only baptize adults and, in fact, began baptizing babies to guarantee their entrance into heaven upon the hysterical requests of mothers concerned for their child's spiritual well-being (just a tidbit I picked up in our individual baptism preparation class, which consisted of me, H, and the priest talking theology for hour - can we say terror sweats?). Formerly, any unbaptized children, until the policy was changed, went to limbo, an in-between spiritual world (let's not ask how an organization made of regular human beings decides how to change the order of the spiritual world, but that is one of the reasons I was a heathen for so long). But I suppose your concept of who will be there when you get to the hereafter depends on your concept of the soul. Do I believe the baby I lost early in its gestation will be there? No, because while I grieved for it as if it were my child, I'm not sure of its possession of an actual soul yet. But do friends of mine, who have lost babies tragically close to term believe they will meet their unborn child someday? I'm sure I would.

One of my issues with the standard concept of heaven is its duration. You know, forever. I just can't buy it. I think, one, it would get really crowded and hard to find anyone and, two, it would get really boring. I'm all for the concept of a place where there is no suffering and everyone is happy, but wouldn't you eventually get used to it and take it for granted? Unless getting into heaven also makes you a saint, I think the human condition makes us blind to what we have when we have it. I'm sure there are some people living in subSaharan Africa who think my life is as pretty damn close to heaven as you can get. And what good is life without a little suffering? Don't you really get tired of all the eating, drinking and partying and want to get back to real life by the end of the holiday season? I think a month or so in heaven and I might feel that way. I think we do spend a decent amount of time there enjoying it, but I take a reincarnation approach and I think we come back.

I think asking someone to describe their concept of the afterlife is a way to see inside them very intimately and could be a really fun party game ala The Movie of Your Life. My own concept is colored by my life experiences and is full of loop holes, but it is fun to think about. Like I said, I think your time is limited up there. You get to really enjoy it, but you also get to come back to earth and do all the stuff you missed (I'm not sure there's reality TV in heaven, and definitely not in H's version because if there was he'd actually call it hell). I think you get to see the people you love and you get to see them in various stages. I'm sure my mother would like to see me as a nineteen year old, but I need to see her as a grown woman. I also think you get to eat and drink as much as you want and never gain weight ala Defending Your Life, which would result in my spirit self walking around all day wearing a holster of my own creation that holds a dozen donuts and sixty-four ounce jar of peanut butter, and one of those hard hats with the straws coming out of the top that idiots wear to drink beer hands-free at football games, except mine would be outfitted to hold two bottles of chardonnay. On second tought, maybe it'd better be a converted hydration backpack all those crazt long-distance runners wear, I'm not sure my neck could stand that much strain. And, of course, RuPaul is the one who opens the pearly gates for me.

Could this be a possibility? Can we all have a heaven of our making? Some day I hope to find out. Of course, this is all contingent on them letting me in.