He
allowed me a final (for now) tear-filled ruffling of his broad,
furry, snow-white chest, and a quick hug, and then he and the others
bolted off into the Forest in the direction they had come.
He
stopped at the edge of the trees for one last look back, and I could
have sworn that his gaze embodied a very un-doglike intelligence.
Then he turned and followed the others into the magnificent woods,
and I watched them recede quickly out of sight, marveling at the
energy and flawless grace of their movements.
The
last time I had been with Clyde in the world below, he had been a
helpless, and pain-wracked cripple.
"Why
no people?" I asked back on the Balcony. I took the
instantaneous translocation in my stride by now. I was amazed (and
more than a little proud) of how quickly I had grown accustomed to
thought-travel. I mentally patted myself on the back.
My
companion did the same to me, physically.
"Do
you want the truth?" he asked in response.
There
is a choice, here? I thought, forgetting it made no difference.
"That
depends. Is it bad?" I spoke my thought out loud this time, and
what I really meant was, “did the reason reflect poorly on me?”
"I
will only ever tell you the truth, or nothing at all. There are many
things I could say to you, but you cannot bear them now. This item is
borderline. It is not what you will think as complimentary, but it
will be helpful, if you allow the truth to have its perfect work."
"Shoot,"
I said, "I can take it. I'm a big boy." I was not at all
sure that was true.
He
nodded, and then took a moment to form his words carefully. He hadn't
done that before: uh oh.
"You
are not really a 'big boy'," he said. I waited for the
trademark smile. It didn't come.
"You
are, instead, quite fragile. And your level of fear and insecurity is
matched only by your desire to appear otherwise. While wanting with
your whole heart to have faith in the One who made and saved you, you
have what they call on-planet, trust issues. You think they
are justified, and you hold onto them like a security blanket. In
human terms, they are justified, based on the experiences of
your past. But those experiences, and everything else about your
earthly existence, all the scars and dents and scrapes inflicted upon
you by yourself and others, are utterly transcended by your King.
They melt away into vapor and nothingness in the Light of His
Presence. But you are stubbornly thick-headed, and fail to surrender
your heart to knowledge that your brain knows all too well."
Then
finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the smile. Oh how
quickly I had become an addict!
I
relaxed then, because as broken and disqualified as I felt at that
moment by his relatively gentle criticism, I knew he still approved.
I was completely embarrassed by how vitally important that was to me.
Then it struck me how perfectly orchestrated this last interaction with my
companion had been, starting with my long-lost dogs. His words had
instigated the very reactions he was so carefully delineating,
illustrating the objective truth about them undeniably, and with
exceedingly, abundant grace and gentleness.
As
I thought this, his smile grew wider and, well, more.
"You're
very good at this my friend!" I said laughing.
"I
am so much more than your friend, Dead Man. I am so much more than
'on your side'. But that perception will do for now. Well done!"
His
actual praise of me just then, while filling an emptiness that seemed
to be there forever, simultaneously felt very, very risky.
Ah!
All part of the same lesson! I realized, sheepishly. Nothing's
simple.
"Indeed!"
he said still smiling. "Indeed."
Then
he looked at me with those ageless eyes.
"I
don't want to mislead you into believing that complicated is
inherently good," he continued.
And
this, just when I started to think I was getting somewhere.
"Mistrust
builds walls and takes an aggressive posture as a reflex. Threats
appear where they really aren't, and since the best defense is a
robust offense, some people," he looked at me pointedly, "get
fierce."
"Fierce
sounds better than fearful," I said.
"Neither
one is very useful, frankly" he said. "Both evidence lack
of faith. Truly brave and heroic people do what they do because they
believe what they say they believe about God and His Son. Truly calm
people are like that, too."
"You're
bringing me down," I whined. "Is all this why I'm only
allowed to be visited by my deceased dogs here, and no actual people?
Well, besides you, er, me."
"Has
anyone ever told you that…" he began,
"Don't
finish that, please," I interrupted quickly. "And yes,
whatever it is, I'm sure they have."
"…you
are precious," he finished anyway.
I
didn't see that coming. First fearful, now precious. It was
ridiculous. Here I was telling me deep, absurd things about
me. Time travel - you just can't keep it straight.
"Who
would you like most to see?" he asked then.
"Is
this a trick question, or a test?"
He
shook his head from side to side.
"I'm
assuming that means no, even here. Yes?"
He
punched me in the shoulder. Were you allowed to do that in Heaven?"
"Do
they have to be dead like me?" I asked. "You know, like a
departed relative, or somebody famous from the past?"
"You
can ask to see whomever you'd like, as long as they're here."
That
brought me up short. Anybody? I got the sense this was probably a
one-time grant. I anticipated a flood of names and faces streaming
through my consciousness as my highly developed intellect and
perceptive abilities kicked into gear.
Crickets.
Maybe
I should approach it from a different angle? Who, out of all the
people in my life, did I miss most?
Sadly,
nobody came to mind. (Was that true?) Everyone, and I mean everyone,
that was most important to me was still alive down below. The truth
was, I missed my wife and daughters most. And I was very sure they
missed me, as well. But since I was guaranteed a return trip, there
was no immediate urgency to see them. Had one of them died before me,
that would have been my first choice. Other than that, no one really
came to mind. Was I actually that pathetic?
He
smiled.
"Take
your time," he said.
Parents?
What if they weren't here? Other relatives? Long lost friends? OK,
there was a vague interest in one or two names from the past, but
none evoked any intensity. I truly was pathetic.
Underneath
all this, was an idea that had suddenly popped into my head, but
which I just as quickly dismissed before I even really acknowledged
it. Then it bubbled up again. I tried to suppress it, exactly like an
impossible longing you know is there but can't bear to look at.
His
smile widened. I knew he was mind-dropping again.
The
thought became increasingly irrepressible, demanding that I face it
fair and square, like a deep wound, or an ancient wish that could not
possibly be fulfilled, and was all the more painful because its
absence, once acknowledged, would become unbearable.
I
think I was clenching my jaw by then. I was gritting my teeth
fiercely trying not to voice the very thing that had to be said. Not
because the desire would be granted, but precisely because I knew it
couldn't. Sweat began running down my forehead into my perfectly
functioning eyes; the salt burned just as fiercely as on-planet.
Finally, I could do nothing other than blurt it out, the words
ripping involuntarily from my throat. I yelled it at the top of my
lungs. There was no other alternative.
"I
WISH TO SEE JESUS!"
© Bill Lilley 2011, 2013
