by Leah, 16, Loxahatchee, Fla.
Chapter 1
He was lost all those years ago. The son and brother we never got a chance to know. He’s been waiting for us in the loving arms of the Father.
My mother told me about him, how she hadn’t even known she was pregnant until he was already gone. My big brother. His name would have been Joshua.
He is standing right inside the pearly gate, ready to welcome us. My mother and father hug him and I wait until they are done before wrapping my arms around him. He is taller than me, as a big brother should be. His hug is full of warmth and protectiveness. My mother is crying tears of joy and my father is grinning broadly.
“We’ve waited a long time to meet you,” my father tells him.
“I know, I’ve been watching you,” he looks at our mother, “I was watching when you found out you were pregnant with my baby sister.” He turns to me, “I was watching when you married the man our Father set aside for you, and I was watching when you had your first child.”
“I wish we had gotten to see you,” I say.
He laughs, “Don’t worry, we have plenty of time now.”
My brother looks a lot like our parents. He has a thick head of dark brown hair and we share the same blue eyes with our father.
Something occurs to me, “Are you left-handed?”
“As a matter of fact, yes I am. We would have been the lefties in our family!”
My mother, having stopped her crying, wraps him in another bear hug. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispers.
“Thank you Mom,” he grins, “but not as beautiful as you.”
Mom laughs. I’ve never heard it so happy and carefree. At our old home, there was always something to worry about, always something that weighed on our minds. Coming here is like having a heavy burden lifted off our shoulders.
“What have you been doing all this time?” my father asks.
“I’ve been watching our old home, talking with the others who came early, and listening and learning from wisdom of the Father.”
Wistfully, my father says, “I would like to hear him speak.”
“You will soon,” my brother informs us, “but it is too soon right now. Not everyone has walked through the gates yet. We have a few more minutes.”
My father looks like a young schoolboy. He’s practically jumping he’s so excited. He has been longing for this day for as long as he has accepted the love of the Father. Always talking about it and reading. He was our rock when things got tough, he would pull out his Book and find a verse to make us feel better. He is a true son of the Father.
Chapter 2
My brother offers to show us around to pass the time. The first place he takes us to is a majestic garden. The flowers look like living gems in every color imaginable and unimaginable. The grass is soft and moist because of the mist from the nearby waterfall. Despite the raging of the falls, it is quiet and serene in this place. I look up to see if I can see the top of the waterfall, but it goes so high it looks almost as if it were flowing out of the sky.
Joshua leads us on a winding path through the garden and points out the different plants to my mother, some we’d seen before and some that aren’t in existence.
I can tell my mother is in awe of the beauty around her. In our old home, she loved to grow things, but none of it was or could ever have been as pretty as this.
Next, he takes us to the Hall of Martyrs. Every man, woman, and child who gave up their life for the Father is shown is this hall. Standing at one end of the hall, I cannot see to the other end. Joshua says it goes on for miles.
“Where do you worship?” I ask Joshua.
“The Father’s house is where we gather,” he tells me. “Our worship is not the same as the worship you used to have. We still sing songs of worship and praise, but we don’t have sermons. We don’t need them anymore. Instead, the Father tells us stories about the Beginning and about our old home before there was sin.”
He points out the pictures of Paul, Matthew, John, and some other missionaries who died doing the work of the Father. “Have you met them?” my father asks, eyes twinkling.
“Of course,” my brother says, “and you will too. The martyrs have a place of honor at the Father’s table.”
“His table must be very big,” I say.
At this my brother bursts out laughing, “Yes, it’s a very big table! Are you ready to see it? Everyone has arrived.”
Suddenly nervous, I ask, “What’s he like?”
“He’s like our own father,” he smiles and puts his arm around me, “only his love for us is infinite.”
I smile back at him as he leads us toward the Father’s house.