Meat in Heaven

"Mommy, is there meat in heaven?"

"Yes, I think there probably is."  Probably.  I'm not really sure.  I instantly think of a dozen arguments either way.

"Will we eat?" 

"Yes, all the best foods.  The Bible talks a lot about the dinner parties.  They're so great in heaven."

"Is there poop?"

"No, I don't think so."  I do think the whole idea of waste management in general is a product of the fall.

"Does Daddy have any clothes to wear?  Because he left them all here.  Like that red shirt that he wore when he died.  I liked that shirt."

He was wearing a red shirt.  I remember this, too.

"I bet Jesus had all new clothes for him, buddy."

"When will I die?"

"Probably not until you're a very old man."

"Like Poppa?" 

"Even older than Poppa."  Tyler's eyes grow wide with wonder.  Even older than Poppa.

"I don't think Daddy will remember me."

My heart catches.  I have worried that the boys wouldn't remember Robb; I had not thought to worry about their worries that he wouldn't remember them.  The worries multiply at an astounding rate.

"Oh, Tyler, yes.  Yes, he will remember you.  No matter how old you are, no matter how old he is, as soon as he sees you, he'll know you.  You're his boy."

Tyler smiles his bashful smile, the one that says, I don't really want you to know how happy that made me just now.

"Will I get to do whatever I want in heaven?"

"Well, the good news is that you'll only want to do what God wants you to do, so yes, you'll be allowed to do anything you want."

He smiles bigger.  This place sounds better and better and better.