Central Park.

When you close your eyes, how do you picture perfection?

When I close my eyes I picture several things: a lush, green pasture, with wildflowers and cows. I think of a cabin in the Rockies, so encased with snow that the front door won't open for days. And I think of my family, around a table, with tons of catfish in front of us and starry spring night hanging over us.

You may think of Rome.

My "UnkaDonald" thought of Central Park.

Who knows why. Maybe he had been there before. Maybe he had just seen it in a movie. Or maybe when the beauty and glory of heaven invades our mere mortal mind, words must give way to images that we've never seen before, and that words cannot capture. So we try our best to put words to what we're seeing. Water.........Green...........Beautiful..........Lush...........Central Park.

And so it was Central Park that my Uncle Donald traveled to. Four days before he passed away. At least that's what he told us.........

~~~~~~~~~

For almost a week my Uncle Donald (Meridith and Bubba's father) had been on a breathing tube. It was doing more than keeping him alive, it was driving him up a wall. He wanted to talk, yet couldn't. He wanted to drink, but wasn't allowed to. He wanted to smile, but even found that hard.

So four days before my uncle died his family made the decision to remove that tube, that darn tube that made him itch and scratch and mad as heck, and on the day they removed it, he continued to breathe. And then, suddenly and surprisingly, he began to talk. It had been days since they had heard him utter a single sound but then there he was propped up in bed and motioning for them to come over.

"I'm sorry I've been away for so long."

They assured him it was okay.

"I went on a trip."

"Really? Where did you go daddy?"

"I went to Central Park."

And it was then that they saw the payoff to all the pain medication the doctors had him on. Hmmmmm...Central Park. Interesting. Did you go there on a spaceship daddy? Inside they began to laugh. But he continued...

"I wasn't by myself. I saw Roy. He was over by the water watching the kids play."

Roy was my Pawpaw. He died a few years ago. Their ears began to perk up.

"I sat around and had espresso..."

A Starbucks in Heaven? Meridith was suddenly completely fixated on his every word.

"...with Charles and Joe and Mike."

Charles, Joe, Mike. Three of Donald's best friends who died suddenly, tragically and way too early. But who served God faithfully alongside Donald for many many years. But this couldn't be. Maybe he was just thinking of these men, dreaming of them. Let's test him.

"Daddy, was Bubba there?"

"No."

"Daddy, was Uncle Gene there?"

"No."

They knew then that no one who was still alive was there with him. Just him and Joe and Charles and Mike.

"It was just us and Jesus."

"Jesus was there?"

"Yes, he stopped by twice. The first time He just wanted to hang out with us and talk. The second time he came by and just told us how much He loved us."

And their testing ended. What was left to say? To ask? Why put to the test what their earthly mind could never comprehend? Oh, wait, there is one question...

"Daddy, why did you leave?"

"I didn't want to. But I couldn't keep up. I hurt too much. So I told them I would be back later and I'd catch up with them."

And four short days later, he did.

Oh sure, there were moments that still lay us out on the floor with laughter due to some over medicated babblings. And to this moment we aren't sure why he felt the need to fill up propane tanks or bake a cake. But for a moment, a small window of time, he was as clear and concise as he had ever been. About anything. Ever.

~~~~~~~~~

To this day we don't know if Donald had ever been to Central Park, ever seen it as a child or just witnessed it in You've Got Mail, One Fine Day or half a million other movies (or Law and Order episodes, but usually there's a murder victim there so I'm choosing not to go with this notion). But what we do know - what we choose to believe - is that in that final moment, between the here and the there, he caught a glimpse of something that we cannot explain. Something beyond green, something beyond beautiful, something beyond lush, something beyond pleasant...something like home.

So. What will your heaven look like?

And may we, like Donald, make it there in a worn out body, from doing all the work he could for the sake of the Kingdom. And may we find ourselves such good servants of Christ, that even Jesus stops by for espresso and to shoot the breeze.

Now, that really would be heaven.