Heaven and Hell (32 page)

“OK,” replied Jennifer, trying to make some sense of what she had just heard. “You said something about it being your fault. What was your fault?”

“The accident. I was driving her back from a Christmas party. I was distracted, not paying attention to my driving. I hit a patch of black ice and slid out of control, right into the path of an eighteen wheeler. I’d sort of remembered the accident before, but without my wife in the picture. Now I remember everything.”

Jennifer didn’t quite know what to say about this revelation, but she could already see the devastating impact it had on her son. Tears in Heaven were inevitably tears of joy, not tears of grief—until now.

“Mom, you know what this means?” continued Chris, his eyes growing wide, practically wild. “My not remembering her can mean only one thing; she’s in Hell! The love of my life is lost to me forever…no, more than that, she’s being tortured, and there’s nothing I can do about it!”

“Stop it, Chris,” said Jennifer, her voice suddenly firm. “You’re jumping to conclusions. If that were true, why do you remember her now? No one remembers loved ones in Hell, they just don’t.” There was a pause as Jennifer did her best to assemble a reasonable explanation for what had just happened. “How do you know that she died in the crash? She might have survived, did you ever think about that?”

“No,” Chris said. “She was with me after the crash, I remember that now. Before the tunnel when the light appeared, before God called me home, we were together. I had her hand in mine as we headed for the tunnel; then suddenly she was gone, and so was my memory of her. Don’t you see what must have happened? She got sidetracked somehow. She was swept out of my life for her unbelief, I know it.”

“No you don’t,” insisted Jennifer. “Listen to me. You’ve heard about near death experiences haven’t you?”

Chris paused to consider it. “Yes, I’ve heard of them. I saw a television program about it a long time ago. People who had died, and then were brought back, spoke of a tunnel and a light at the end. It seemed like almost everyone had seen it.”

“Yes,” confirmed Jennifer. “They didn’t reach the light. They weren’t allowed to go there. You watched that television documentary with me, remember? Well, suppose your wife was prevented from entering the tunnel, because she wasn’t supposed to die yet. God may have had plans for her.”

“But she didn’t believe,” objected Chris. “I tried to win her over, but I don’t think she ever believed in her heart.”

“And so you didn’t remember her,” continued Jennifer. “She survived, but because she wasn’t born again, wasn’t yet a Christian, you didn’t remember her. But just a few minutes ago that changed. Now, think about this, months after your death, she accepts Jesus as her personal Lord and Savior. She might have been considering it for a long time, hedging, but she only made up her mind just a few minutes ago. Maybe she took the altar call. Maybe she just knelt down and prayed. So, what happens?”

Abruptly Chris perked up, he hadn’t considered that possibility, but it made perfect sense. It explained what had just happened. Now, finally, her name was in the Lamb’s Book of Life. She was Heaven bound, and as a result, he knew her once more. “You really think so?”

“I do,” said Jennifer. “Admit it, your old mother has figured it all out.”

“Yes, of course,” said Chris, “it all makes sense.”

“I still think we need to take a trip to Zion, just to make sure that we have all of our ducks in a row, but I think you and your wife will one day have a glorious reunion.” Jennifer paused, shaking her head. “Dear, I wish I could have been there for your wedding.”

“You would have loved it,” said Chris, who at last was calm, able to talk about his beloved wife. “You remember my friend from high school, Cliff Morris?”

“Yes, yes I think so, the red-headed boy with the freckles, the one who was in little league with you?”

“Yes, that’s the one. Well, he was my best man. He got married just a month after me, and I was the best man at his wedding.”

Jennifer nodded. “Dear, I want you to get a few more hours of sleep before we go to Zion. But this time, don’t worry…and no more bad dreams, OK?”

“OK, Mom,” said Chris, settling back into bed. “Just a couple more hours, but I want us to get an early start.”

“We will, dear,” promised Jennifer, “but for now, rest.”

Jennifer tucked the blankets around her son as she had done when he was just a child; then she walked quietly from the room. As she stepped into the hall and turned out the light, she thought of what she had said. She realized that Chris had been grasping for straws, searching for any trace of hope. She had just given it to him, but as she considered the matter further, she wondered just how sound her own explanation really was.

Yes, it was possible, very possible, but she was beginning to realize that she might just have raised her son’s hopes only to see them dashed. There were alternative explanations to what had happened this morning, dark and terrible explanations. Yes, they would travel to Zion and discover the truth. Jennifer hoped that the truth would set her son free.

C
HRIS and Jennifer joined hands and prepared to step from their front porch into to the gates of the Heavenly City of Zion. Both were dressed totally in long white linen robes for their meeting with the heavenly Father. It wasn’t so much that God required a ritual purity, He didn’t. No, it was more for their benefit, than for that of the Father. They wanted to feel clean when they stood before Him. It put their minds more at ease, and this was a good thing.

Chris concentrated a moment before the shimmering portal appeared before them. He looked back to see his cat sitting at the edge of the porch watching him intently.

“We’ll be back, Ebbie,” he promised, looking into her wide yellow eyes. “Now, you be a good kitty while we’re gone. Maybe we can play later this afternoon. Does that sound good?” No, she didn’t answer, not exactly; but the swishes of her long black tail led Chris to wonder if she hadn’t understood him just the same.

Chris and his mother stepped into the shimmering portal, and vanished amid a flurry of sparkling stars. Almost instantly, they stood at the gate of Zion. It was as busy as always, with people coming and going, appearing and vanishing in a swirl of glowing stardust. They entered the gates with little fanfare and made their way in the direction of the most holy place.

“You never had any children?” asked Jennifer, trying to learn as much as possible about her newfound daughter-in-law. “I didn’t think to ask that earlier. I guess I was just too flustered.”

Chris chuckled. “No, Mom, you aren’t a grandmother. Serena and I talked about it, but we just weren’t ready. Right now, I don’t know if I regret that decision or not. It would have been nice to have left some part of our union behind; but then again, I’d hate to think of her having to raise a child on her own, the world being what it is.”

“You realize that she might remarry eventually,” Jennifer said, hesitating to bring that matter up at this point. “I just wanted to prepare you for that possibility.”

“I’d want her to,” Chris said. There was no hesitation in his voice whatsoever. “I don’t want her to remain alone for the rest of her years, not on my account. I want her to have a good life. She certainly deserves it.” Chris suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, as a frightening thought overtook him. “Suppose she was hurt really bad in the accident?” She might have lost a leg or an arm, she might have been paralyzed. Mom; suppose she’s gonna be in a wheelchair for the rest of her life. It’s a horrible thought.”

Jennifer placed her arm around her son. “Now you’re just guessing. Still, suppose you’re right. It’s still better to enter the Kingdom of Heaven missing a limb, or an eye, or even totally paralyzed, than to spend eternity in Hell. Think about it. Whatever has happened to her since the accident is just for the moment. You know the rewards that lay ahead of her. One day when she comes to be with us, she will be restored.”

“But she has had such a rough life already,” lamented Chris. “She had such a terrible childhood, did I tell you about that?”

“No,” replied Jennifer, seizing an opportunity to focus her son’s mind elsewhere. “You need to tell me all about it. I want to know everything you remember about your wife.”

Chris perked up immediately. Now that he remembered her, he wanted to tell his mother about the love of his life. He wasted no time giving her the full story. He related to her everything that Serena had told him about her childhood. He was amazed at how detailed his memory was. He could recall their every conversation, practically word for word. It was wonderful.

On through the streets the two traveled practically in a daze, unaware of the multitudes around them. Jennifer learned both the good and the bad in Serena’s life. Before her son had entered the scene, most of it had been bad, a true human tragedy. Yet, that had quickly changed. From there on, it was a modern-day fairy tale, with her son playing the part of Serena’s knight in shining armor. There was no doubt in her mind that it was he who had planted the seed of salvation in her heart. She was so very proud of him.

There she was, thinking so positively, but how else was she to feel? She had become so very confident in her explanation of why the memory of Serena was once more in her son’s thoughts. How could it be otherwise? No one in Heaven could have any remembrance of an individual who had been cast out of the light and into Hell. No, her explanation had to be right; or at least had to be close to being right. She did her best to put her mind at ease. This wasn’t Earth; it was Heaven. Tragedy was a thing that simply didn’t happen here. Things would work to the good, perhaps not exactly as she thought, but to the good nonetheless.

They had reached the Great Hall of Records when Chris abruptly stopped. He looked toward the grand building as if suddenly inspired. “We can find our answers in there,” he announced. “I’ve gotta know what’s happened to Serena. Even if she’s found someone else, I don’t care. I’ve just gotta see her.” Immediately, Chris turned toward the main entrance of the building. Jennifer never had a chance to object.

This wasn’t the way she wanted to find out what had really happened to her son’s wife. “Why don’t we go to talk with God first,” she suggested. “Then we can come back here and pick up on all of the details. I’d rather do it that way.”

“I’ve gotta know now,” insisted Chris, as he walked through the front entrance. “I can’t wait another minute.”

It was in the great hallway, just beyond the entrance, where Chris stopped again. He closed his eyes, sought direction.

He turned to his mother. “Fifth floor, eleventh hall, twenty-second row.” Chris wasted no time. He headed straight for the nearest stairway.

“Chris, wait,” said Jennifer, but her words fell on deaf ears. He was already at the stairway.

Upward and upward Chris went, nearly running, his mother in close pursuit. It took less than two minutes to reach the fifth floor. Now he was on his way toward the 11th hall. It was almost on the other side of the building, better than 400 yards away; he continued on. The sooner he got there, the sooner he would know.

Again Jennifer asked Chris to stop, but if her words were even heard, they went unheeded. A sense of dread suddenly overwhelmed her. This wasn’t the right way to discover the truth; it held great personal and emotional dangers for them both, yet her headstrong son was in no mood to discuss it.

A sharp right turn at row 22 and Chris was nearly at the end of his quest. Another dozen steps brought Chris to a halt. He turned to face the wall of books and began his search. “Serena Farnsworth,” he murmured to himself, his fingers passing book after book. “The book is under her maiden name. That’s sort of strange.”

Jennifer now stood at his side. The rows of books before them were particularly dismal, especially for one who knew what the colors represented. Most of the books were bound in dull black leather, indicative of those who had rejected God’s salvation. Some were white, and just a few were gray. Instinctively, her son’s attention had turned to a short stretch of gray books, at about eye level. He scanned them and moved on. As the seconds passed, he became increasingly agitated, something was wrong. He wasn’t finding the book. Had he somehow misread the instructions? Suddenly, his roaming hand froze in place. It moved forward, caressing the spine of a book before him.

Jennifer drew closer, close enough to read the name embossed in golden letters on the spine, “Serena Farnsworth.” The book was black—jet black. “Oh, Lord God!” she gasped. “Oh, Lord, no!”

Chris said nothing. The tips of his fingers continued to caress the volume before him, almost as though it was Serena’s hand and not her book. His eyes were in a wide disbelieving stare. Then without warning, he collapsed to his knees. He buried his face in his hands. His mother wrapped her arms around her shaking son.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” he murmured. “Why has God done this to me?”

Jennifer didn’t know what to say. She had somehow convinced herself that this quest would end differently. There was only one recourse. “Chris, we must go on to the most holy place and ask God. We’ve gotta do it right now, this very minute. Only God can help us now.”

Chris turned abruptly to his mother, tears in his eyes. Yet, there was far more than just tears; there was anger. “Why should we go to talk to God now? He did this to her. He sentenced her to Hell.”