Gates of heaven

Here's one of the story i found in Adrian Plasses book that i like so much... So i just copied it, and of course all the right belong to him, but i don't think he will mind me sharing it... here goes the story:

Slowly, uncertainly, Liz approaches the gates of heaven. Jesus is leaning against one of the gateposts, a little smile playing around his lips. Something that looks like a bulging supermarket carrier bag is hanging from one hand.

'Hello, Liz,' he says quietly.

'Oh, dear!' says Liz, hardly daring to meet his eyes, 'I'm afraid I don't deserve to be here at all.'

'Quite right,' says Jesus, 'but then nobody does, do they? That's not a problem, though. I've sorted that one out, remember?'

She stares at him for a moment before speaking again.

'Ah! No, of course not. I mean - of course! Thank you so much! What I meant was - I mean - well, what I meant was that I never really did anything...'

'Oh' says Jesus, looking a little puzzled. "What are all these, then?'

He holds the carrier bag out with both hands, open so that she can see the contents. She rifles through them. To her astonishment, inside are all the cards of encouragement and condolence and celebration that she sent to all sorts of people over the year.

'Some other person with the same name?' asks Jesus. His expression appears to be one of confusion, but the smile is still there in his eyes.

'Oh,' says Liz, 'well, yes, I suppose I sent them, but that's all.'

'Hmm.' Jesus closes the bag and puts it down beside him, just inside the gates. "I know you're not coming in, but just poke your head round and take a look at this.'

Tentatively, she takes a few steps forward and nervously peers around the nearest gatepost. Immediately she gasps as she is overwhelmed by a sea of colour.

'Goodness me, what a marvelous garden!' she cries. 'Where on earth did all these wonderful flowers come from?'

'From you,' says Jesus, still leaning on the gatepost, 'these are all the flowers you gave me over the years.'

'Flowers I gave you?' she protests, 'I thought i gave them to - well, to people.'

'Look,' says Jesus, 'I don't want to go all technical and theological on you, but the way it works is that every time you gave, say, a bunch of tulips to Fred n hospital, the same bunch came straight up here to me. And I planted them. I've been having a great time. They grow here even if they've been cut. DO you like the garden you gave me?'

Liz is overwhelmed, and might argue if she wasn't so sure that se would lose the argument.

'I did get very impatient and grumpy and a bit resentful sometimes,' she says in a very small voice.

'True,' says Jesus, 'but usually only with your husband, and that gave him a chance to show his saintliness - sometimes. Oh, There's something else I wanted to show you.;

By now she has taken a few steps into heaven without realising it. Jesus moves over to a little stone table at the edge of the path, and picks up a heavy, leather-bound book. He thumbs through it in silence, stopping to read little bits from time ti time.

'Err, what is that?' she asks at last

Jesus looks up. 'This? Oh it's just a record of all the chats and conversations you had with people when you visited them in hospital and met them on buses and in the street, and - oh, all over the place. Some good ones here. Thank you. You really cheered me up sometimes. And you filled in quite a few gaps in the road for all sorts of people. I'm not saying you were perfect but you had a jolly good go at doing things for me. Well done.'

She is in tears, It's all too much, Jesus puts his arm around her and leads her away through the flowers. The air is fragrant with the scents of early summer.

'Come on, Liz,' he says gently, "I've got lost more things to show you, and there's someone I really want you to meet

She looks up suddenly, and says through her sniffles. 'Do you know. I feel awfully well.'

'Of course you do,' he replies, smiling broadly now, 'you've come home.'