A LITTLE SLICE OF HEAVEN.

I wrote a story not too long ago titled, Heaven is in the mind of the beholder.

This got me to thinking about life after death, about the great unknown. I often ask myself what will heaven be like? I never question whether or not there is a heaven, because I know deep down in my very soul that the promise of eternal life is there.

When I was a youngster, many many moons ago, I heard a sermon in church about heaven and how we could obtain a small insight into what heaven will truly be like.

This was not your regular run of the mill story, the one about angels and harps and eternal joy and perfect bodies and pure bliss and all that repetitious meandering.

The elderly minister was talking from his heart and not trying to impress the congregation with his hard earned knowledge. He was not one of those self-styled prophets who claim exclusive copyright to the very thoughts of God.

The minister said that if we want to be in heaven for a little while without leaving this life or this earth, we should do something kind and unselfish for someone in need. He said the joy and gratitude we see on the faces of the people we help will make us feel so good that we will wonder how heaven could be any better.

The minister also said the kind deed must be done with the right intention. If our intent was to receive praise and recognition, we would be defeating our purpose. He said that the deed should be done in such a way that we reap no personal gain from it and our attitude must be such that we truly expect nothing in return.

He reminded us that to spread the word around town about the good deed we did, expecting praise, honor, reward, or a pat on the back, would prove nothing but how truly selfish we are.

I can buy that one, I told myself. Now where do I go or what do I do to experience this little slice of heaven?

For a while I mulled the thought over. I came up with several plans, such as visiting someone in the old folks home, or using my bag-boy money to buy flowers for the church. In fact, I mulled it over so much I eventually forgot what I was mulling over and never did get around to finding that slice of heaven.

Many years later, during the Christmas season, I happened to recall the minister's warm sermon and also thought of how quickly and thoroughly my good intentions had evaporated.

I was in the Army stationed at Fort Bragg with the 82nd Airborne at the time. We lived off-post in low income housing among many others of low income, even many nonmilitary types. Our community was a true melting pot of cultures and races, white, black, Hispanic, oriental, middle east, all of us living just above the poverty level.

For some reason that I can't recall I received a lot of extra money just in time for the holiday season. I think it was hazardous pay from Vietnam the Army owed me. I was very generous that year to my family, buying more gifts than any of us honestly deserved, and we had money left over, not much, but some.

Feeling generous and in a happy holiday mood, I decided to finally put the minister's words to a test. Having lived in the neighborhood for a while, I knew those families who were desperate for money, who likely had no food in the pantry or hopes of getting any.

What did I do? I bought five sturdy envelopes and placed a $20 bill in each one, then under the cover of darkness like a thief in the night, I silently placed those envelopes in the mail boxes of the five poor families I had chosen.

For many days afterward I eagerly looked for signs on the faces of those families of their unexpected good fortune. I never noticed any signs and for a while I thought my wonderful plan had backfired.

Then I realized that my thinking was all wrong. I needed an attitude adjustment. Although not consciously seeking praise, deep in my mind I wanted it. It finally sunk into my hard skull that all I had to do was to talk to God with the thought, "I did a good one, didn't I Boss?" And I had my little slice of heaven. From God, I got all the praise I could possibly want.

You may ask why I'm telling this story now if not for praise? First of all, no one ever praises a writer, and secondly, the minister's words are well worth passing on and on and on and on.

That was one of the most wonderful Christmas holidays I have ever had. I keep asking myself, "When am I going to do it again?"