Yesterday
I noticed a bent over elder man,
standing patiently at a front door.
When the door was opened
He did not immediately go in.
He paused
and wiped his feet before going through.
In that moment I heard a voice call to him from a kitchen years ago,
“Wipe your feet! Dinner’s almost ready, so go wash your hands.”
I saw a young boy about to rush across the threshold
But pausing, just in the nick of time, to quickly brush his feet across the mat.
He does not know how grateful she is for that front porch screen creaking sound
That lets her know he is safely home.
I do not know what heaven looks like,
but maybe for a moment,
it will smell of something tasty
like chicken soup and chocolate cake,
or sauerbraten and warm linzer torte,
or some other delicious fare
made with hands that cherished us
and souls that wanted us to do well in this life.
Then, we can pause in happiness
knowing
that the meal is ready,
that any dirt or mud we have tracked through this world is gone,
and God is grateful because we are home.
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