Heaven on a Thursday Morning

What do you think goes on in Heaven on a Thursday morning? Certainly not laundry and washing down the front of the noisy washing machine, or waiting on grain to be ground or anticipating six more inches of snow to fall in May. Probably not school plans or drinking too much coffee or continuing battles with tween-ager wills, either. What goes on in Heaven on a Thursday morning? The thought stops all of the day's plans and makes me consider eternity and God for the umpteenth time. I fight back tears wishing Trent could tell me, wishing to know, pondering the reality that my brain cannot fathom. I come to a dead end, nowhere to even begin to imagine or reconcile the difference. Missing and waiting for another day, remembering to look up and wondering if this might be the day. Then I go back to my scrubbing, back to my coffee, back to the battle of desperately begging for the salvation of that strong willed child who is still this side of eternity and pray that she would wonder, too, about what goes on in Heaven on a Thursday morning.