Serving God: Part 1

I can recall sitting in church, learning about God and the kingdom of Heaven. I lived my life, serving God, and standing up for (at the time) what I believed to be the ultimate truth.

I grew old and died. This is obviously what humans do, they are born, and they die. My death wasn’t anything exotic, nor was it heroic. I went to bed. Although I didn’t wake up in my bed, I did wake up on the side of a fog covered road. I stood up. The road seemed to come to a complete end, covered in thick, dense fog to my right. To my left, however, the fog seemed to gradually dissipate and seemed like the most logical for me to follow.

As I walked to my left, the fog did indeed begin to thin out, at least on the road. The sides of the road were still overbearingly foggy and I could see nothing past it. I kept walking.

After what seemed to me to be roughly an hour, I was surprised to find that I did not feel tired! I pondered this as I walked. In life (at least near the end) I could only walk for about twenty minutes before feeling the need for a rest, but here I felt no fatigue! This is the first time I looked at my hands. They were roughly the same as when I had died, yet the wrinkles had smoothed out. The veins that once popped out of my almost translucent skin had now resumed the look of my hands when I was thirty-two! The thought of my hands then made me wonder what my face looked like.

I was resolute to find a mirror when I came across a rest room, however, I then thought about my bladder and bowel control. Before I died, I would be lucky to go two hours before I had to use a toilet. Possibly I had even regained my youthful control that I once had!