I was telling a friend this story this morning and it occurred to me, it was a good one for the blog and might be good inspiration for Bob (R.H.) (you know who you are).
When I was 4 or 5, at the breakfast table my mom was trying to convince me to want to go to heaven. I was busy playing with my cheerios, flicking vitamins into the flowers and drinking grapefruit juice. She started telling me how wonderful it was in heaven with Jesus and God and the angels and my family and how it was white and up in the sky and I imagined clouds and a city and lots of people. And how wonderful it would be because we would live forever in paradise. The light streamed in from our bay window and I imagined that's how heaven was. I had this great picture in my head of all this, but only one burning question.
"Are there grapefruit trees in Heaven?" my tiny body probed.
Mom hemmed and hawed and said she thought there weren't any grapefruit trees in heaven, but my grandmother (who I loved the best of all) would be there (she was still alive at the time). Well, that was not enough for me. If there were no grapefruit trees I didn't want to go there. She tried to backpedal and say, well, there might be grapefruit trees in heaven." Might? Not good enough for me. I didn't want to go anywhere there weren't grapefruit trees.
You can take Heaven, I'll take grapefruits.
