Yesterday was a gorgeous day. I was driving around, windows rolled down, feeling the breeze and out of nowhere, I got an awful feeling of homesickness for my granny, who passed away several years ago. When I start to feel this way, it always gets me thinking about heaven. Maybe this is because thinking about heaven helps me to picture the person I miss, up there having a grand ole time. And this is somehow comforting to me.
The problem is that we’ve all heard heaven described as a place with gold streets and mansions, but as long as I knew her, my granny never lived in a mansion so I found it hard to picture her in that setting.
Instead, I thought, what if heaven were like a fish fry? Based on the vivid stories I’ve been told over the years, that I can definitely visualize. A couple of sawhorses set up under the biggest shade tree, with planks or maybe a door laid across them as a makeshift table. Oilcloths over the table, or possibly newspaper. Huge platters of catfish (or whatever kind of fish they eat in heaven) and my granny, making hushpuppies like they’re going out of style. Maybe she fusses lovingly at my great pa. Maybe she tosses a lump of fried cornmeal to a dog sitting at her feet.
In truth, I don’t care what heaven is like because I’m sure once I get there, I’ll be thinking about other things. But for now, I’m going to keep my fish fry theory because it just blesses my heart to think of my loved ones in this way. Do you ever think about what heaven might be like?
