My Picture Of Heaven

My Picture Of Heaven




It's as silent as a grave. In fact, it's so quiet, I can hear my thoughts echo in my brain... I slowly open my eyes, not knowing where I am, and glance around. I'm in a long, white room, the walls stretching on for eternity. There is nothing else in the room, just space. Suddenly, the wall in front of me lights up like a movie theater. It is a movie of a baby being born and I start to close my eyes, but stop. There is a woman in the picture that I recognize. Her face is much younger, clouded with pain, yet still recognizable. It is my real mom, Lori, and she is giving birth to me. The picture fascinated me. It switched again. I now saw my parents, they're arms outstretched to hold a tiny bundle. I realized again, that the bundle was me! Had I really been that small? The picture always changed, always showing me in my past... Some of the pictures made me laugh, others cry, but all were of me in my past. But, then came the pictures introducing my pre-teen years. It showed me, tomboy-ish with scars and baggy clothes. It showed me getting glasses and my thoughts about that came out of invisible speakers. It showed my first fight, my first award, my first everything. But, then the pictures changed. They were still of me in my pre-teen years, but now, they showed pain and anger. Then the pictures, switched. It showed me on my first day of high school. I once again felt all the emotions that I felt that day. The fear, the anxiousness, the sadness, and hope washed over me again in waves. I once again saw the people I've gone to school with since I can remember. I re-acted that day through this strange movie screen. I saw myself walking around aimlessly, looking for my classes and seeing my old group of friends again. Saw what I did each day over again; heard every word I spoke all over again. Most of the stuff that happened made me disappointed. Who was this girl with the glasses and the makeup, trying to be some one else? I certainly didn't recognize her. She was as unknown to me as the formula for pie was. "How had I become this?!?" I thought to myself.....I saw me influencing the younger kids with my words and actions; both were not right...This person I saw in the movie made me frustrated, even angry. The girl in the movie came off as arrogant and rebellious; something I never realized I was. The pictures got worse, more rebellious and worse in behavior. "This can't possibly be me!" I cried to myself over and over again and yet, I knew the truth: This person was me. Not the one today at present but the one in the past. The pictures angered me and I hit the screen desperate to turn the movie off. It stayed on. I cried out, begging who ever it was that ran the movie to shut it down. Yet, it still prevailed. I hit it again, hoping that maybe I could break the screen and it would stop, but my punches meant nothing. I fell to my knees, sobbing. "Why am I being put through this? I didn't ask for this!" I thought to myself as my sobs continued to pour out..... I once again looked at the screen and noticed something I hadn't before: a signature. It was there, in the lower right corner. I slowly rose and peered at it. "No! This isn't right!" I practically screamed. It was Satan's signature there, announcing his claim over me. I ran my hand over the signature, desperately trying to erase it. It didn't disappear as I had hoped. It stayed there, staring me in the face, taunting me, breaking down what courage I had left. I had always said I was a christian, but how many times had I acted on it and proclaimed it out loud? Not many I realized. The meaning of the signature sent a shiver up my spine. I started to shake uncontrollably, unable to stop. I once again, fell onto my knees weeping. I remained like that for who knows how long: a statue frozen by her sin. Suddenly, the pictures stopped and disappeared and in it's place popped up a table with two clipboards on it. I didn't move, unsure of what to do, scared of what I might find. After finally working up the courage, I crept up to the table and looked at the clipboards. The first's title read " PEOPLE I'VE INFLUENCED" in big, bold letters while the other one said "People I've witnessed to" in such small letters that I had to squint to read it. The first was about three to four pages long and I recognized almost every name on it. The other one on the other hand, was one page long and barely had any names on it. I looked at it and felt my face begin to burn as the tears welled up in my eyes. Was this really my life story? It didn't have any accomplishes, only mistakes. Why? Why didn't I believe? But, that's just it, I realized. I did believe. Just not enough to make something of my life. I started to cry again but this time I tried to hide the tears. This was my fault, after all, wasn't it? My decisions led me to this. No one else could have made me do what I did. My world suddenly spun and I grabbed onto the table for support as I fell to my knees for the third time since I had come to this room. I bit my lip, determined to keep my tears in check, but try as I might, they just wouldn't obey. As they silently slid down my cheeks, I noticed I wasn't alone anymore. He stood there, staring at me with a sad face. I glanced at him and then quickly hid my face. Why was he here?!? How could he look at me? I was nothing. No one special. I didn't deserve to see him. So then, why was he here? I peeked up from under my arm at him but he was no longer looking at me. He was staring at the clipboards and the movie screen with a thoughtful expression. He startled me by suddenly walking closer to the screen and staring at it as if it would reveal some secret to him. Then he reached down to the table and picked up a red pen and started to sign his name over the signature in the corner. I watched, fascinated. What in the world was he doing?!? No, he couldn't be...could he? The questions ran through my brain like a train. He was! He was claiming me and the red ink was his blood! "NO!" I screamed, forcing myself up while tripping over my feet. I ran to him and quickly grabbed the pen from his hand. l stared at him, horrified. He shouldn't do this, couldn't. I wouldn't let him. I wasn't worth it I tried to tell him, yet he just gave me a small, sad smile and pulled the pen from my enclosed fingers. He turned away and continued signing over the evil signature, making me his own. I watched him, the tears again sliding down my cheeks, like little race cars seeing who can escape my eyes fastest. I dropped to the floor like a weight and put my head on my knees, unable to control my tears any longer. It seemed like forever till he was done. I didn't look up as he put the pen back onto the table and then reached down to pull me up. I shuddered at his touch. I didn't deserve this; to be one of his own, to have his love, to be touched by him. He gently pulled me to my feet and held me in his arms while wiping my tears away like an old grandfather helping his hurt grandchild after falling down. After my eyes had stopped, at least for the moment, he took my hand and pulled me to a door across the room. As I walked to eternity, I threw one more glance back to my life and what was now my past, and then walked with my King into the future.