I had a conversation with Margaret today about Eternity. We discussed how the soul lives after death, and how our lives on earth are short compared to the Reality of God and the history of the universe.
We talked back and forth and Margaret nodded wisely.
As she appeared to understand, I continued, "Margaret, our real home is in heaven. Even though you might spend, perhaps, a month, at your grandmother's house, and even though you might get used to where you are, and you might feel at home in this temporary place, there is a part of you that knows your are not where you are really supposed to be--this place is not your home."
Margaret cocked her head, nodded, and lowered her eyelids as if to say, "Aah, I understand, Mother."
I continued more animatedly, "Our life is like grandma's house, you see? Our real home is in heaven! But we behave as if grandma's house is our real home! Our true Home is with God, but we spend time in this place which we think resembles our Home. We feel more and more comfortable here...but we aren't in our real Home."
"I see..." Margaret sang, "it's like..."
I waited for the profound musical wisdom with which my children often astound me.
"It's like, after going to Grandma's house--you can't find the kitchen."
"Ok, Margaret. Let me explain try to explain this a little better..."