Do You Think there are Tomato Schmears in Heaven?

Do you think there are tomato schmears in heaven? Do you think boys will still want to kick box with their moms? Do you think they will make that popping, kissing noise when you tuck them into bed at night? Do you think there are mud hills so I could slide down with my son, rather than ewe-ing about the dirt and just standing back and taking pictures? Do you think I could cover myself with mud and dive into the pond to rinse off? Do you think there will be duck boats so I can just sit back and enjoy the ride again with my boys at the oars?

Will there be mornings of breakfast in bed, with pudding and cool whip and a cherry on top? Will there be stairways so I can take a turn riding the mattress down? Or forts to build, or trees to climb, or homemade boats to sail, or short horses to ride, or four wheelers to get stuck? Will there be tents to pitch or squirrels to chase? Pheasant's to mount or big fish to catch? Rivers to explore and lakes to enjoy?

For an eternity I will be able to look out into a crowd and spot those ken-doll locks and expect a young man to walk up and put his arm around me and rub my lower back just because he loves his mom and knows I need him close. I will see the twinkle in his eyes again, the sparkle reflecting from his Savior, as we go forth without the fear of death. If mud hills and duck boats and silly boys were this good this side of heaven, what must the other side be like?

"And I know this man . . . who was caught up to paradise. He heard inexpressible things, things that man is not permitted to tell."

2 Corinthians 12:3-4