Where am I? Why is it so foggy here? I can’t seem to find my
way. This sure is a strange fog. It’s whiter and brighter than
any fog I’ve ever seen before in my life. This is kind of weird.
I don’t feel damp or cold. I’ve been in some pretty heavy fogs before,
but they were damp and cold -- and kind of gray. This fog is white
and, and, uh, brilliant. But the light doesn’t hurt my eyes. I wouldn’t
say it is warm in this fog, but it is comfortable. But man, is it
thick!
I can’t stay here all day, and it sure is puzzling how I got here in the
first place. Over towards the northeast it seems to be lighter.
I think I’ll head towards that light.
How did I get here? That still puzzles me. I remember I was
washing windows. That’s what I do. I’m a professional window washer.
I like climbing down the side of a tall building and cleaning the windows.
Some of the secretaries in the offices of the buildings I clean, and even
their bosses, watch me sometimes with awe in their eyes -- almost as if
I were heroic or somethin’. I’m no hero; I just clean windows.
But I must confess, sometimes it does make me feel good to see the way
they watch me. That’s why I’m usually smiling. Of course, there
is that view from way up there; it is beautiful! Then too, sometimes
it does get windy.
Windy? What is it about the wind that I just can’t quite remember?
Hey, perhaps the wind blew this strange fog in.
Oh, I can almost see some things as I am getting closer to the light.
I’m not sure; it almost looks like a fence. No, as I get closer I
can see -- it’s a gate. I think there’s someone standing by the gate.
I think I need to go ask him where I am. Maybe he can tell me how
I got to be here in this strange fog.
The last thing I can remember is the wind. Let’s see. ... ...
I remember getting up this morning. I wasn’t feeling very well.
I feel fine now, though; I’m not sick at all. That’s good, because
I thought I was coming down with the flu.
I remember Raymond called me this morning. He had twisted his ankle
last night and he asked me to work in his place today. Stifling a
little cough I told him I’d be glad to. I mean, I could always use
the extra money and even though it was my day off, I didn’t have anything
else to do except maybe nurse this little cold I seem to be catching.
I hung up from talking to Raymond and got dressed and headed out the door.
I was glad I was going to work, actually, because I had no one to be with
-- not even a puppy! I never havve been married and I only dated once
or twice seriously. I think I’m a pleasant enough lookin’ guy, and
I believe myself to be a social person. I’m always friendly to everyone,
even when they aren’t friendly back. I’ve just never found the woman
who seemed right for me -- or who I seemed right for. Nothing seemed
to ever click.
I can’t complain, though, because I’m not really lonely. I do have
a lot of friends. I even go to church with some of them on Sundays.
I do believe in Jesus and have prayed to Him a lot. Sometimes I wonder
if He hears me or if He has even been listening to me.
Well, like I was sayin’, I left for work and then I noticed the wind was
picking up, and if it was blowing like this down here on the ground, it
might be blowin’ pretty rough up above. You can’t clean windows if
the wind is blowin’ too much. It would be a waste of time, especially
in a big city like this, with all the dust and soot and dirt and stuff
that’s being stirred up with the traffic and construction workers and construction
equipment and stuff.
Well, I was thinkin’ -- I’ll go up top and wait. If the wind
does die down, I’ll be over the side cleaning away soot and grime from
the windows of the office buildings making the world a little clearer and
brighter for those inside. It kind of makes a person feel good --
making the world a little brighter for someone else. In case you
couldn’t tell, I love my job.
I remember thinkin’ -- It looks like the wind has died down. The
clouds have broken up and the sun has come out. It’s gonna be a beautiful
spring day. I recall last Sunday was Easter Sunday. Couldn’t’ve
hoped for a more beautiful day! And today seems like a lot more of
the same. Well, it did this morning anyway....
Let me think now. The sun was shining. I felt the warm sun
on my face as I climbed over the wall to step into the scaffolding.
That’s it! That’s it! Just as my foot touched the edge of the
scaffolding, a strong gust of wind came up. For a brief moment it
felt like I was falling. ‘Course I didn’t; I’m standin’ here in this
fog. I mean, I couldn’t’ve fallen. If I’d’ve fallen from that height
they would’ve had to scoop me up with a teaspoon.
Well, I’m fifteen feet away now and it’s a gate for sure. The light
is brighter here, but still it doesn’t hurt my eyes. The man at the
gate is dressed in white; that seems kind of strange, but anyway I’ll ask
him where I am.
“Excuse me, Sir. Could you help me? I seem to be lost.”
“No.”
“No what? No you can’t help me?”
“No, you are not lost. You are right where you are supposed to be.”
Man, this guy is strange, but no stranger than this fog! It is almost
as if this guy can read my thoughts, for he smiled and a little chuckle
escaped from his lips.
“Tom. You remember as you were walking along in this unusual fog
that you could not figure out? -- You were thinking about how your day
started. You remembered everything from receiving that phone call
from Raymond, up to the sensation you felt right after that gust of wind.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t fall. It was just a sensation.”
“No Tom. You really fell.”
“Well, that can’t be, because if I really fell, then I’m..... ........”
The compassion and understanding in this fella’s eyes I can’t even describe.
He simply smiled at me and nodded his head.
“You mean I’m dead?”
“Yes, Tom -- in a manner of speaking you are dead.”
“In a manner of speakin’! Look, fella, where I come from -- dead
is dead and not dead is not dead -- and there ain’t no ‘manner of speaking’
inbetweengist.”
Patiently, the man dressed in white agreed, “All right, Tom. Speaking
in your terms, you are dead. You fell from the scaffolding when a
sudden gust of wind came by.”
“Well, who are you? Saint Peter?” Tom asked a little sarcastically.
“No, I am not Peter, though Peter has been here from time to time.”
Acceptance was slowly coming. “All right. So I’m dead.
--- Tell me somethin’. Do I get to go through those gates,
or am I waiting for a train to go to a warmer climate?”
Laughing a little, the man in white answered, “No, Tom. You get to
go through the gate.”
“Hey, are you an angel?”
“Yes, Tom, I am.”
“Well, can I ask you a question? Is there any chance that I could
go back. You know, like I was having one of those ‘near death experiences’?”
With a little smile and compassion flowing out of his eyes, the angel replied,
“Tom, remember where you were when you fell?”
“Uhhh, oh yeah. I guess there’s not any chance at all.”
Shaking his head negatively, the angel opened the gate and motioned for
Tom to go through.
“Wait a minute. Can I ask you a question? Did Jesus want me
to come to heaven? -- I mean, I mean, right now?”
“You are here now, Tom, aren’t you? We have already discussed how
it is impossible for you to go back.”
“Okay, if Jesus wanted me here now, how come he didn’t just take me up?
It’s sort of like Jesus wanted me in heaven, but he had to kill me to get
me here. I don’t mind bein’ here. But why did I have to die?
You know, dyin’ hurts!”
With that ever present compassionate smile, the angel explained, “So does
love. And Jesus loves you. And in order to save you, that’s
what Jesus did. He died for you, Thomas. And you had to follow
Jesus and pass from your earthly life. It is time to go now, Thomas.”
Tom started walking through the gate. “Uh, just where are we going?”
“We are going to meet Him.”
“Him, who?”
“We are going to meet the One who died for you, Thomas.”
“You mean, Jesus?”
With a broad smile the angel responded, “That’s the One! And Thomas,
you are not dead. Your life is just beginning.”
A slight moment later the angel laughed out loud as he had to run to catch
up with Thomas.
~ ~ Simon West
© Easter, 4 April, Nineteen Hundred and Ninety-Nine
