In My Father’s House

There is one particular verse in the bible which caught my attention at an early age, and it was my anchor for many years as I fought against the idea that Heaven was a place for only one kind of belief, and if you were not a believer of that certain doctrine you were going to Hell, and everlasting torment when you died.

“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 ye may be also” (John 14:1–3).

I took those verses to heart, and used them to explain to zealots around me that my “Mansion”, my Heaven would be a lively, diverse place full of souls from many faiths.

That was in my childhood, many decades ago, but there came a time, a mere five years ago, when I had reason to harken back to those words. It was just two months before the death of my dear wife, Melinda. She had stage four Colon Cancer, and a severely weakened heart, and she was suffering terribly.

I had brought her home the day before from a two week stint in the hospital where the doctors operated on her, trying to shore up her failing heart so she could undergo yet another round of chemo. She was so very frail and weak, but she insisted on sharing our “Porch time” with me instead of laying in bed.

You see, it was our custom, each morning, to sit in our rocking chairs, on our front porch…I with my coffee, and she with her mug of hot chocolate…and spend an hour just greeting the new day. We would talk about any and everything, and make our plans for the new day.

On this particular morning, after I helped her into her chair, and took my seat next to her, we were quiet for some time. I was so worried about her, I just didn’t know how to begin our usual banter and planning.

Finally it was she who broke the silence.

“I need to share something with you, in case this thing with my health goes the wrong way.”

I held up a hand to stop her, but she said, “Let me finish while I have the strength,” and her voice held such a sad, pleading tone, I just nodded, and told her to go ahead.

“If I have to leave you,” she continued, “I know you will be sad, and hurt, but just know that I will always be with you. When you need me the most, I will be with you.”

The lump in my throat was too big, I could not speak. Silently, I wiped tears from my eyes and just nodded my head.

“I also want you to know that I have seen our Heaven.” she told me with a smile. “This last trip to the hospital, after the operation when my heart stopped, I saw it.”

How could I forget…her heart had stopped and they had to shock her four times…each stronger than the last…before they brought her back.

“What did you see?” I whispered

She smiled and closed her eyes, then after a moment she spoke. “I was standing in a small valley that ran North to South,” she said. “The ground was covered in soft lush grass like a carpet. In the distance I could see a small, swift flowing river that meandered through the middle of the valley and both banks were lined with beautiful trees. Off to the West, a short way from the river, stood a simple little cabin with a front porch that ran it’s entire width, and on the porch was two rocking chairs.”

She took my hand then, and smiled. “Don’t you see, darling, it was our home in Heaven, and that is where I’ll be waiting for you.”

I stood up then, and helped her out of her rocker and held her close. I had no words other than…. “I believe.”

And so it came to pass, her beautiful, gentle heart did give out, and I was left alone. The first six months after she passed away were hell for me, alone on our little farm. The thing is though, every time I reached the point where I did not believe I could carry on one more day….she would come to me. Sometimes I could feel an unseen hand on my shoulder…offering comfort. Sometimes it was a gentle breeze against my cheek, that felt for all the world, like the light touch of her lips. Those things would get me through the days, then, almost every night she would come in my dreams that did not feel like dreams at all, and we would talk, and hold each other.

So here it is…almost five years down a lonely road. She does not come so often any more, maybe once a month or so. Each time, when we meet in my dreams now, she tells me more about our little cabin in the valley, until today it is as real to me as any place of its kind you can find in this world.

And all of this is why I still believe in the words I read in the bible so many years ago….”In my father’s house there are many mansions…”

For you see, I have seen my “mansion” and I know she is waiting on its porch for me. I believe.