I got up at four this morning, (yes, that’s way before the rooster crows) as usual, to start my day. Obviously, I don’t work in a bank! My job starts at 6:40 but I actually start working a few hours latter, after the caffeine kicks in! I’m not a real hero like baseball or football players, I’m just a lowly operating room nurse who cares for their injuries so they can go back to their fans and the Super Bowl or whatever bowl. (I think it’s a bowl of mixed nuts, myself). Gee, I hope I don’t sound anti sports!
I start my day off with both feet on the ground running, pulling heavy equipment around, rolling stretchers from pre-op to post-op. Holding patients hands as they go to sleep and comforting them when they wake up, no easy task as some are real weenies. I pleasantly and professionally keep their families updated during their procedures. At days end I chauffer my riding companion to the pharmacy to pick up her prescriptions, to the grocery store to pick up her groceries, to her mailbox to pick up…surely you know where I’m going with this!
Then I finally dump her on her doorsteps with a sigh of relief after she gets out and doesn‘t request any more errands like mopping her floor or sanitizing her refrigerator! (I “m so co-dependent!) I hit the gas pedal and burn rubber with my glass slippers before they turn into house shoes . I still have more demands on my schedule before I can rest.Next, I run by the nursing home I volunteer at to check out a few residents. I make sure they aren’t abused, or abusing the staff. Yes, senior citizens have accumulated years of tactics to get even with caregivers. I will sit with one or two of the bed bound to chat for a while then check out the diners. I always get complaints about the home-style cooking by residents sitting next to someone who claims they never get a bad meal here. Well if home cooking means anything, I hardly ever like what I cook so the nursing home is living up to the claims of their advertising brochure! One woman complained her food was too salty. After I took a sample nibble, I was tempted to pour more salt on and add catsup to the mix. If she thought the salt was the cuisines problem her tastes buds died way before she did. Anyway I registered her complaint with the cook along with the compliments to the chef from her dining partner. Score one, loose one! I then have to remind one elderly lady that it’s not nice to pinch the orderly’s butt, his “no” means NO. I don’t care how cute he is, I tell her, it’s just not part of the care plan. I don’t confide in the “abuser” that I identify with her needs, it just wouldn’t be proper! I make a mental note to tell the orderly to stop dressing like he’s asking for it. He should know these old ladies could only restrain themselves for so long.
After my rounds at the home I pull into my dad’s drive way. It’s a nightly routine to check up on him. He forfeited his rights to drive a few years ago when he misjudged a curb and landed in someone’s patio, stopping just inches from a lady in her lounger. Me. This made me his personal driver. Before I go inside I pick up a little birdie that fell from its nest and gently return him/her to safety. Loading dad and his walker into my car we take off to the mall for his exercise. It’s an exercise for me too. I get a good heart rate going looking at all the sales. I end up having to track dad down. One peek into a store and I’ve lost him in the melee. A little old man with a walker and oxygen shouldn’t be this hard to keep up with! I just may have to invest in a halter strap for him. I assumed wrongly that raised him better than this. “Always stay close to me in crowds”, if I haven’t said that once I’ve said it a thousand times. I found him in the video store, at the x-rated display case, sweet talking some cute little thing. They had identical walkers and used the same oxygen supplier. A match made in heaven, (or the local HMO!) He informed me she still drove her own car, hint, hint. That’s good, I respond, maybe she can start driving him around: not what he was implying, I’m sure.
I eventually park in my dark, gloomy driveway, nearly 12 hours since I rolled out of it his morning. I put the final touches on my day, like feeding the pets and preparing for tomorrow. Forget eating, I’m too tired. I then curl up with my warm fuzzy house mates on the sofa and promptly fall asleep in front of my favorite television show just as the starting credits roll down. Now how it can be my favorite show if I never stay awake for it is another question all together.Something went wrong in my sleep. The dream I’m having is so surreal. I feel light headed. Airy. Wispy. Looking down at my feet I see miles of nothing below me. I’m rising at a speed unknown to man. It doesn’t hurt though, breaking the sound barrier, and my fear of heights is gone; it shouldn’t be since falling from this distance wouldn’t even leave a splinter of a bone in place! What has happened? To my right is a winged creature, holding my hand, pulling me along. She explained that my days have been numbered, my heart had quietly failed in my sleep (do you wonder why?) and I was on my way to see the Judge. The Judge! Oh, my gosh, I need a lawyer! (doubt I’ll find one where I’m going!)
My guide deposited me at an enormous white luminescent gate and flew off. Was this a large pearl? I wouldn’t want to be around the oyster that laid this beauty. A bearded man at the entry was holding a registration book and looking for my name. I could see thousands of souls on the other side of the golden wall milling about. Jewels sparkled every where. Everything glistened, reflecting the sunshine. But wait, there was no sun here. I recognized family and old friends even though they looked healthier than they had in ages. Healthier, younger, happier. It was apparent the gatekeeper was having a difficult time locating my name. I remained unruffled since I had changed my name so often he would need some time. (I always signed important documents in pencil to alter them when needed.) All the names in the registry were hand written in peculiar red…ink? What neat penmanship. He kept mumbling to himself and moving his finger down the pages. He ultimately closed the tome in exasperation and looked me in the eye.
“You don’t seem to have pre registered. You’ll need to give me one good reason I should let you in.”
What? This would be easy. One good reason, ha! I’ll give him more than he asked for. I was an over achiever after all. I had done nothing but good deeds all day long, yea, for years. My routine didn’t vary much. I helped more people than I could count. I started my defense and ran with it. I must have talked for hours patting my back at the same time, literally. Apparently death makes you flexible. The man just listened. He wasn’t hearing what he wanted to hear. I’m familiar with the look of boredom, especially when he punctuated it occasionally with an exaggerated yawn. Boring, that’s pretty much how my life was beginning to sound. Yet I did so much for people I couldn’t imagine being refused admission. I even threw in helping a little old lady cross the street. (never mind she didn’t want to cross and I had to walk her back!) And for the icing on the cake I reminded him of several homeless dogs I rescued. Who can refuse a good animal story?
“Sorry, you just don’t meet our qualifications here.” He declared, turning his scarred back on me. He was rejecting me. Sending me on my way. No trial by jury, no review board, no appeals process. No asking to see his superior. What kind of a monkey court was this?
“Wait!” I yelled gripping and rattling the barred gate, trying to force it open. Looking over my shoulder all I could see was absolute darkness sucking everything into its opening, pulling my feet towards it while I clung to the platinum bars in the pearly gate. In front of me the brightness of heaven was fading as the guard put distance between us. His shoulders were shaking; did I hear faint sobbing? Staring horrified at his retreating posterior I screamed, “This is a joke! It sounds like the only way to get in here is by the grace of God!”
Cling! My judge turned back around with an colossal smile, happy I had seized the correct concept. Pulling out the three nails that locked the gate, he inserted two into his hands and one into his feet co-joining them, as the gate slowly swung open. He motioned for me to enter with a regal bow. The darkness behind was quenched, the radiance before me intensified. The crowds inside the gate broke into song and danced: they were non-amazing light on their feet! Firecrackers exploded in the air. It was like New Years Day. New Eternities Day. No. It was like the fourth of July. Independence Day. No Dependence day. We are all dependent on God’s grace and mercy. Good deeds are worthless with out doing them in God’s name, under his cloak of salvation. I hadn’t earned the right to enter through the pearly gate; I was admitted by the grace of God. And I was given a new name that had been added to the registry hand written in blood by the only man qualified to permit me entrance.
Isaiah 62:2
John 20:25
Act 4:122
Cor. 5:10
Eph 2:8-9
Col 2:13-15
Rev 2:17
Rev 20:15
Rev 19:12,15
Rev 21:21,23
