I can't wait till I see Jesus - part 1

Funny how as you get older, notions of death and dying become less abstract and less theoretical.

While awaiting the results of your first medical "procedure," you may start noticing your outlook is coalescing into an acknowledgment that your rickety, fleshy anatomy is fairly flimsy; non-renewable in fact ... and that mortal defunction is firm and inevitable after all.

Sometimes folks who consider themselves "religious" or "church-going" ride through their years on the soul train of their choice, convinced that they've written their own schedule and Heavenly reservation; believers who recline on comfortable loungers of spiritual denial, self-righteously pointing fingers at sinners standing outside Church Station (but unwilling to give up their seats, or extend a hand to help them aboard), snoozing past the scenery ... only waking when it's time to snap their fingers and demand a filling snack from their personal porter-pastor.

Being more religious, more saved and more arrogant than anyone else, they expect life to be one smooth trip, an easy First Class ride all the way through the Pearly Gates en route to their Heavenly mansion ...  it's only humility that prevents these holy rollers from letting other believers in on the secret, "My mansion's gonna be the biggest mansion you've ever seen!"

These pious passengers feel confident their train's on the right track and that their private Pullman Sleeper pew is chugging along on a non-stop route to Heaven's station.  That life will be a cozy, self-satisfying and distraction-free trip all the way.

At least, till the engine starts slowing down, the whistle blows ... and their estimated Eternal Time of Arrival abruptly, or unfairly, becomes certain and inflexible.  

Uh oh, when the ride's over it's gonna be my turn to step off.  That's when anxiety hits, the finality of death seems real, and soul-searching through the spiritual baggage begins in earnest.

I got baptized to make sure my ticket's punched, but did my reservation get confirmed on the prayer line?  Will somebody up there recognize me?  Wonder if I've got time to buy a stained glass window or a pew inscribed with my name, just so they'll know who I am.

Oh boy, where did I pack my church clothes and wallet?  I'll never find anything in all this mess ... why on earth did I bring so much useless stuff ?