HEAVEN'S KITCHEN

I had a dream the other night - about my Aunt Alice. In my dream, I had gone by her house one last time. I knocked, opened the door and went on in. The house was clean, carpets newly shampooed, walls freshly painted. Her old couch and chair were against the wall where they had been the last time I had gone by, when Sandra and Kim were cleaning out the house. Pat and Ruth were there, visiting with Kim and Sandra. Alice was in the kitchen, where she always was, doing what she usually did - cleaning. I went over to the sink and started washing dishes. I called out to Ruth to come help, so we could wash dishes together at Alice's house, one last time. But Ruth and Pat had gone up to the Church. So, I drove Alice up to the Church so she could visit with her friends at the Pantry, one last time. She was inside for just a short while. When she got back into the car, she said, "It's time to go Home." I didn't want her to go. I wasn't ready. But she was.

A few days later, as I contemplated that dream, I thought about Heaven. Alice is now with her two sisters, Rosa and Frances, and with her parents, Frank and Annie. I chuckled softly as I pictured the scene: It was a huge kitchen, not state-of-the art, but a rustic kitchen with a 4-burner gas stove, the sink from Grandma's house and a large kitchen table. Grandma and Aunt Freddie were making dumplings, Aunt Laney was making tamales, Rosa was shelling peas, Frances was making pies, and Alice was supervising. Grandpa was outside with his cows, making sure they had enough lush, green grass and just enjoying the pastoral scene.

We all have different expectations of Heaven. I'm inclined to believe that Heaven is a representation of what makes us happiest on Earth. For Alice and her sisters, they always seemed happiest in the kitchen, no doubt a characteristic handed down through the generations of women in the family. In the Bible, the role of women was mostly that of nurturers, nourishing the body and the soul. So it's fitting, somehow, that Alice, her sisters, mother and aunts were always providing nourishment for family and friends. In Alice's case, she provided nourishment of the spirit for an untold number of people, myself included.

I miss my Aunt Alice - she was my 'Deborah,' my Counselor. I miss my Aunt Rosa. She could always make me laugh because she laughed a lot and her laugh was infectious. I miss my Aunt Frances. She was the source of all the news from and about the family. If it happened to one of our relatives, no matter how distant, she knew about it. I miss all of them. More than words can say. But the thought that they are with each other makes it seem almost selfish of me that I wish I could have kept them here longer. But, it never would have been long enough.