Up at 3 am thinking I should add something to the journal, just to keep it "alive". So here is some drivel to add to Dribble.
My niece and I were discussing the purpose of life. She felt that she was wading through the "muck" of her life hoping her life would exhalt Christ. I asked if she thought her life was really "muck", her word, and she back-tracked a bit, saying she meant the dull daily routine.
I am non-religious, so that explanation for life did not fit me. I said that my life was a novel that I am reading. It has had its exciting chapters and its dull ones. The chapter I am on is pretty dull, but that the conclusion ahead would, I hoped, be more interesting. There might even be an epilogue, I surmised.
She said the epilogue would be the most important part. By epilogue we meant after-life.
Actually I don't expect an after-life, but it is reasonable to at least consider it.
My cousin, 89, expects an after-life without pain, in which she could wear loose white frocks with blue trim, and people keep their appointments. She would have a large bed in which she would not feel cramped. Her garden would grow without weeds. In fact, she was describing her present life without the constraints she has placed upon herself.
One of my tablemates believes in an after-life, but will only make jokes about it, saying she is going to "Republican, cat-free, heaven." Some of my journal friends would say that if there are no cats in heaven, they aren't going to go there either
The Menonite choir that comes to visit our old folks home sings regularly about "Streets of Gold" and "Dinner time in Heaven and the table's heavy laden." I asked what they eat in heaven and no one answered. I wonder what gold streets are good for?
Well, wondering about the purpose of life, and the nature of a possible after-life has filled forty minutes that would have been spent tossing and turning in bed. It has added an entry to a sparse journal.
Big finish with a joke:The parson asked the elderly resident of a rest home if he ever considered the hereafter.
"Oh, yes," said the old timer. "Often I walk into a room and ask myself, 'Now what did I come in hereafter?'."
--Chuck at 4 am