We Always Do

   After Sunday school was over, I noticed a little girl still sitting quietly at her desk. As I walked over to her, she handed me a note. It read: ‘My grandma died last week. Her name was Mildred. Please tell me about heaven’.

   I knew the family quite well. They were poor and often in trouble – except for grandma. She was a good Christian woman who had tried to be a strong, godly influence in her granddaughter’s life. Reflecting quickly on what I knew about grandma, particularly how she would so readily help others, even though she herself had so little to give, I sat down beside her granddaughter, took the little girl’s hand gently in mine and told her a story about heaven.

   One day, an elderly lady died peacefully in her sleep, stretched out comfortably on her favorite sofa in the living room of her little cottage. When she awoke, she was very surprised to find herself in heaven, to see St. Peter coming excitedly towards her with arms outstretched in welcome, the Pearly Gates swinging open, wide and free behind him.

   “Mildred, Mildred, Mildred,” cried St. Peter happily, “we have so looked forward to your coming.”

   “But…but…but…what am I doing here?” stammered an overcome Mildred, “I don’t deserve to be here. What have I ever done to merit so great an honor?”

   “Mildred, my dear,” said St. Peter quietly, gently placing a comforting hand on her arm, “are you telling me you feel unworthy to be here?”

   “Yes, why yes, that’s exactly what I am saying…,” said Mildred, her voice trailing off as the wonder of her new found surroundings began to take hold.

   “In which case there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” came the reply, “I think you’ll find He might just change your mind.”

   And that is how Mildred came to meet her beloved Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ himself.

   “How good it is to see you, Mildred,” said Jesus excitedly, “but I understand you don’t feel worthy enough to be at the gates of heaven?”

   Mildred was too overcome to speak.

   “So then I’ll just have to take matters into my own hand, won’t I?” responded Jesus authoritatively.

   “Mildred, do you remember how I said, “Inasmuch as you have done a kindness unto one of the least of these my brothers, you have done it unto me”? Hasn’t that been the story of your whole, unselfish life? And did I not also say, “In my Father’s house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there you may be also”? I know you recall those words, Mildred, because your devotion to the Word of God was just one of the things I learned to admire about you so deeply on earth.”

   Mildred nodded quietly, still too overcome to speak.

   “Here’s what I’m going to do,” continued Jesus kindly, “just so you’ll see for yourself how truly worthy you are to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. I’m going to turn out all the lights in heaven. It will be so dark you won’t even be able to see your hand in front of your face. Then I’m going to ask everyone about whom you ever entertained a kind thought, to whom you ever said a kind word, or for whom you ever performed a kind deed, to light just one, solitary candle. I think you’ll be surprised at what you see”.

   True to His word, as the Savior watched with Mildred and St. Peter, one by one the stars went out and the moon faded from glory. Soon it was so dark you couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face.

   Suddenly, far, far off in the distance came the light of one, solitary candle, followed by another and another, until, seemingly in no time at all, the heavens were ablaze with the glory of God. Magically, the brightness of the heavens merged into a single, bright, shining star that lingered a precious moment before slowly descending to illuminate a mansion so exquisite Mildred did not have the words to describe it. As she looked closely she noticed the sign above the door emblazoned with the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen. The sign read, ‘Welcome home, Mildred. Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your Lord.’

   “How do you feel now, Mildred?” inquired Jesus gently.

   “Humbly grateful,” came the quiet reply.

   “But you still look slightly puzzled,” said our Lord.

   “There’s just one thing I don’t quite understand,” replied Mildred. “I was wondering when it was you came and received me unto yourself?”

   “Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mildred,“ exclaimed Jesus, “I was so hoping you would ask me that. Think back if you will to your last day on earth: do you remember the note I left in your mail box saying I would like to drop in and see you if you were going to be home that afternoon?”

   “Oh, yes, I remember that very well,” replied Mildred brightly, “who could ever forget so great a blessing?”

   “Well, why don’t you tell St. Peter and I in your own words what happened next: we would so love to hear your own account of what occurred.”

   “Well,” Mildred began confidently, “I knew I had nothing in the house to offer you, but I thought I could afford to buy a small cake for us to share with our tea. On my way back from the little shop on the corner though, I saw this homeless man feeding the ducks in the park. I thought to myself, if he can share his last morsel with our feathered friends, you would understand if I shared our little cake with the least of one of your brothers. So I did, and we got to chatting. What a wonderful time we had there on that park bench. We had so much in common, and he was such a marvelous conversationalist. Since my husband died five years ago, my life has really been quite lonely, but this homeless young man just made my day. We talked of our mutual love of the English language, English literature, poetry, so many wonderful things. But then, as usual, I began to feel so very tired: I knew I had to go home and lie down. My newfound friend offered to take my arm for which I was so grateful. As I laid down on my favorite sofa in the living room of my little cottage, he said he’d put the kettle on for tea…” Mildred’s voice trailed off at the remembrance of times past.

   “I believe there was one particular poem you especially enjoyed sharing together?” inquired Jesus gently.

   “Oh, yes”, said Mildred quickly, “and you will know of course that we both knew the words by heart. What a joy it was to recite that poem together, just the two of us.”

   “Would you like to recite it to us now, Mildred?” asked Jesus kindly, “St. Peter and I would so like to hear it.”

   “I’d love to,” came the enthusiastic reply, “interestingly enough it’s about God, although, being anonymous, I never could find out who wrote it.”

   God looked around His garden and saw an empty place;

   He then looked down upon the earth and saw your tired face.

   He put His arms around you and lifted you to rest:

   God’s garden must be beautiful, He only takes the best.

   He knew that you would never, get well on earth again;

   He saw the struggles, the heartaches, the frequent bouts of pain;

   He saw the road was getting rough, the hills so hard to climb;

   ‘Twas then He closed your weary eyes and whispered, “Peace be thine.”

   It broke our hearts to lose you, but you didn’t go alone,

   For part of us went with you, the day God called you home.

   If tears could build a stairway and heartaches make a lane,

   We’d walk a path to heaven and bring you home again.

   At the end of the quiet stillness that followed, Mildred slowly turned her eyes upon Jesus, looked full in His wonderful face, and the dawn of understanding that suffused her lovely face with a radiant glow touched the Savior’s heart.

   “Yes, Mildred,” said Jesus, taking her gently by the hand and leading her into the Kingdom of Heaven, “I was that homeless young man. I did come and receive you unto myself. I kept my promise. You see, my Father and I, we always do.”

For further reading: Matthew 25:31-46; John 14:2-3; Matthew 25:21