The mansion on the hill

   The mansion on the hill

Saint Peter let me through the gate,

embraced me, instructed me to go with Saint John

who would help me select a residence. As we walked,

I caught sight of a mansion on a hill.

I recognized it from my earthly dreams.

It had always been beyond a poor man's grasp,

but this was heaven. Paradise! Who lives there? I asked.

No one, said John. Would you like to see it? Yes, I replied.

We took a narrow path slanting upward

and in a short while came upon, to our right,

a whitewashed stone house, small and humble,

but immaculate, with a bare floor and a small garden

in the green yard enclosed by a white picket fence.

John fell to his knees before the gate

and said a short, silent prayer. He started back up the slope.

Whose house is this? I asked. Jesus lives here, he said.

I looked past him, to the mansion on the hill

and back to the house of Jesus.

I think I would like to live below, I said, down in the valley.

John smiled, clamped a hand on my shoulder.

There are some newly constructed residences there.

I’m sure you will find one you like.

They are very near to where I live.

We started back down the hill. But I turned,

ran back to the gate where, as I had done often in my earthly life,

I fell on my knees and gave my heart and soul to Jesus.

All reactions:

11