It's been a few earth days since I've gone to be with the Lord. At least I think it has. It is hard getting used to the no-time with a mind that still wants to count, and measure. And my mind still does want to count. And measure. They haven't found the body yet, my body, I suppose I should say, so there is still hope living in them. Such cruel hope. They are hoping I am still alive.
I don't mind being with the Lord. It's peaceful here. I am not really used to it yet, but there's nothing but time here, or rather there's no time here, which feels like the same thing, so I suppose I'll get used to it. I'm not a huge fan of peace, it's boring, but I'm sure I'll get over that. What choice do I have? There's no breathing here either, which is weird. Everything does breathe, but it's different. It's all breathing and no breaths. Like a vapor slipping through a membrane. I imagine things here and they appear, so I comfort myself by imagining clothes and shoes and regular things. The porch swing. I have to remember to make it squeak like it did.
I'm still alone here. I haven't figured out how to imagine company for myself yet. There are people of some sort here but I can't see them. I don't know how I know they're people, but it seems to me that I do, and they are. The interesting thing is the earth and the earth people. They're endlessly fascinating. They are so transparent from here! I can see all the way inside of them. It's interesting how seldom their insides and their outsides match. I suppose I should have guessed that from my own experience of life, but I never did. Not while I was out there. I just took angry people as angry and happy people as happy... I had no idea. I had no idea how much was always going on inside each and every one of them. It's fascinating that they don't seem to have any idea either.
I have a sense that as long as I stay fascinated by what's going on out there, I'll be stuck in this alone place in here. It's what I've begun to think of as an observation tower. Not that it's a tower. But an observation point. A place to sit and watch. I'm afraid too, to stop watching. I'm afraid if I stop watching, it will disappear. I don't think that's true, but still. It worries me. So I sit. And I watch.
There have been so many phone calls. Frantic calls, and crying, and praying, and pacing. Lots of pacing. So many people telling my parents not to worry, everything will be alright. Well it will be alright, but not like they think. I'd love to get a message to them, so they'd know it's ok, but I can't. I know that now. This is one of those things you come to know here. The worlds are in the same place, the very same place, yet they are separate. I can see them, but they can't see me. I don't know if everyone can see them or if I can see them because I'm still here, in the alone place.
I had always thought I would be greeted by all kinds of friends and family when it was my time to come here. Especially I thought Jesus would be waiting for me. But it wasn't like that. There was darkness, and the bad pain, and then a gray quiet. A completely full stillness. It sucked me in like an embrace and held me tight, then looser, then looser, until I was floating in it. And completely free. Then the light came and the wall appeared, like an IMAX screen wrapped all around. Then the lights turning into pinpricks and colors and then sound in the silence. Then the images of whoever I imagined. Watching the lives go by. That's why I think it has been three days that I've been here. I'm trying to follow the plot of what I'm watching. It was so disorienting at first though, I may be off by a day or two.
It's hard to watch because I know they'll be obsessed with who did this to me, and why. None of that matters here, but it will matter so much to them. It will steal so much of their time. The tragedy of this is not what happened to me, but what is about to happen to them because of what happened to me. At least it seems that way from my point of view. I'm not saying it's ok, what she did to me. I'm not saying anything like that. There don't seem to be words for what I'm trying to say. I'm saying she's lost, and should be stopped, but I'm ok. Everything would be different if they knew that. Does that mean I forgive her? It does. I have no idea how, and it doesn't matter.
There are things I would have done differently but that's so easy to say from this vantage point! Everything seems so real there, so serious and important. I'm not saying it's not real, it's just, different than I thought. It's just different.
I think the trick for me now, the next step in my journey, will be to want to know what's next for me, MORE THAN I want to know what's happening on earth. That's so hard! It seems almost selfish, because I know I'm ok, but I don't know when they'll be ok. I want to know! But then if I'm ok after what I went through, they'll be ok too, eventually, no matter what. Well that's true, there's that.
I knew they'd be ok. That's what popped me through! That weird and waggling train of thought. They WILL be ok. There's no other eventuality, and then: POP! Then sounds and movement and so much life! The screen of earth still there but so much smaller, like an old black and white TV up under the kitchen counter. Then the people came! The same but different but the same. Talking to me with their eyes instead of their mouths and laughing and so happy to see me. Laughing with their eyes. I was most relieved to see my pets since I always thought the people would be here but the pets? I wasn't so sure. Everyone is so young and happy here! It's a little strange, but beautiful. I'm glad to know I can still go watch that old dusty TV whenever I want to, though. Although I haven't wanted to as much, but I'm glad I can. I'm anxious to see the Lord. People tell me he's beautiful. I have an image of what he will be like, but I'm just not sure. Nothing here is like I thought it would be. I'm not saying I'm disappointed or anything, it's just an adjustment. That's all.
The Lord. The Lord. It sounds different in my head here. Whenever someone died we said, "They've gone to be with the Lord." It seemed simple and absolute but things don't seem that simple here. My grandfather (He's so young and handsome here!) told me that I'm looking at the Lord everywhere. That's so much like what he said on earth and I never expected to hear it here! At first people told me, "He's beautiful." Then people started adding, "She's beautiful." Then, "Isn't it beautiful?" So now I feel way more confused than I ever did out there. I don't get it. That would make me really angry if I could manage to be angry here. I was supposed to get all the answers here! Everything was supposed to make MORE sense not LESS sense.
The thing that does make sense is how I feel. I feel ok. That might not sound too great, but actually it is wonderful. It's amazing. It distracts me from that thought that I need to know. I have endless eye talks with everyone I love here: all at once and one at a time. However I choose. It is excellent. The insides and the outsides are the same here and it's good. It's good enough, which is amazing. It's hard to describe how it's amazing, and amazing doesn't do it justice. Knowing is becoming much less important to me. It seems lately there is nothing to know. Just being and being with and being and being with: is enough.
LOL it's so funny how things work here. It's so strange and funny. I was sitting with my grandfather on the porch swing I imagined for us. It was squeaking, I didn't forget. My grandfather hugged me and stood up and a young man sat down next to me. "Do you know who I am?", he asked me. I thought a bit and looked into his eyes. I felt that I did know who he was, but he was so young... "Am I what you expected me to be?," he asked.
"Not at all," I said, as we laughed together with our eyes.
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