Listening to the radio one morning, a particular story (Story Corps, where a family talks about their memories of each other) really affected me, it brought a tear to my eye... It made me think.
{The story was about a Hispanic family that grew up very poor, but lived well enough to provide a happy home. The father worked ranches in the southwest and did 'cowboy' work, but never had a decent set of leather chaps. Later in life his family remembered him saying that he had never had a nice set of chaps and scraped together the money to buy a really nice pair for him. Upon receiving the chaps he felt that they were "to nice" and that he was not worth the money they had spent on them. He asked if they could return them and get their hard earned money back...
Years later, the father, knowing that in his old age, he was very likely to die soon, told his son, who had never returned the chaps, to dress him in them. When asked, "Why now?" The father replied, "I want you to be able to recognize me when you get to heaven." He wore the chaps to bed, and died very soon thereafter. As was his wish, he was buried in those chaps.}
[If it exists:] How will my friends and family recognize me when I get to Heaven?
Heaven is a concept that many do not ascribe to, so I can see it as a metaphor as I wonder what I am to others. How do they see me? Is it in parts, my height, big ears, funny face, curly hair (long or short) my actions, possessions, hobbies, or words that I have written/spoken or sang?
What am I to others, in their memories? Is it a knowable conglomeration of things?
Hmm.
To ponder.
- Mike
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