“Sounds like a pretty boring childhood, Maximus.”
Max laughed out loud. “Not really. It was all we knew—all we expected. We were taught at an early age to speak Latin and to learn your basic reading, writing, and arithmetic. At age seven, boys went on to a regular teacher, but the girls remained with their mothers, as their constant companion.”
“Why?”
“Well,” Max explained, “The girl's formal education was cut short because she usually married early and it was important for her to learn everything her mother could teach her about home management—to spin, weave and sew.”
“Not to mention—to cook, clean, and serve the men, right, Max?” Bertie snorted.
“It was a woman’s place back then, Bertie. The boys whose fathers were farmers, like my own father was, were taught to plow, plant, and reap. When we reached the age of majority, we discarded our crimson-bordered toga of a child and replaced it with the pure white toga of a man.”
“The girls, too?” Bertie asked.
Max shook his head. “No, there was no special ceremony to mark a girl's passing into womanhood.”
“So, how old was…what did you call it…the age of majority?”
“It varied,” Max continued to explain as he turned to cut four large pieces of the Mississippi Mud Pie he had made for the day’s dessert. “It depended on his physical and intellectual development, somewhat on his father's decision, and even more, perhaps, on the time in which he lived. As a general rule, a man's toga was assumed somewhere between ages 14 to 17. I was 16 when I switched togas. Shortly after that, my parents were killed by the king’s soldiers and my brothers and sisters and I were sold as slaves. I never saw any of them again—not on earth, that is.”
Bertie grew quiet, which was totally uncharacteristic of her. “Wow, I’m really sorry, Max. I never knew that about you. I mean, I knew you were a slave and a gladiator, but, I didn’t know you became one at such a young age.”
⟡
Max placed the four pieces of pie on a tray and pushed it toward Bertie. “It was a life time ago, my friend. That’s enough of history lessons for the day. Why don’t you deliver this to your table of terror…maybe chocolate will tame the savage beasts.”
“Hmmph!” Bertie grunted. “I like my idea of using a switch on all of them better!”
CHAPTER 16
- Heaven -
Norman Talks to Martin
Martin grinned as he checked off a block on Bertie’s weekly critique sheet. “So much better this week, Bertie…so much better—only one curse word.” He looked up from the sheet and shook his head. “However, the week is not yet over.”
He sensed a slight movement behind him and spun around quickly to see Norman Weissman standing alongside Andrew Brown. He smiled at them and waved them forward. “Hello, gentleman. Come, come! What can I do for you both on this glorious day?”
Andrew placed a hand on Norman’s shoulder. “Hello, Mr. Martin. I ran into Norman on my way to the Rainbow Bridge, and he had some questions that I think you might be better suited to answer for him.”
Norman waved a hand in greeting. “Hello, there. I’m still not sure of the protocol expected here in Heaven. I mean, I didn’t know if I needed to make an appointment to talk to someone or not.”
Martin motioned them both forward and embraced them in a tight hug. “Oh, Norman…you must know that there is no protocol in Heaven. You answer to one person, and one person only, but we are all here to assist you in answering any questions you might have.”
“I told him you were the expert on just about everything that goes on here,” Andrew laughed. “Well, Mr. Norman, you’re in good hands now, so I’d best be on my way. There are hundreds of cats and dogs waiting at the Rainbow Bridge for me.”
Norman shook his head and smiled. “Everyone on earth talks about that bridge, but, I wasn’t really sure if it was real, or whether it was just something that humans wanted or needed to believe was real. My own parents always told us that our pets didn’t have souls, so that meant they did not go to Heaven. That was the primary reason I never became a pet owner in my adult life. I hated the thought of loving something so much, watching it die, and then knowing that death was the end of that relationship…that we would never meet again.”
Martin shook his head and exhaled softly. “There will always be those people who believe that, I’m afraid; but, just imagine their surprise when—or if—they get here, and find all their beloved pets waiting patiently for them. Oh, the look on their faces is absolutely priceless! Biblically, the life of an animal is not valued as highly as that of a human being, who was created in the image of God. However, God created every living thing on earth, so why would he not give every living species a soul that might be reborn after death?”
“I haven’t been a believer for very long,” Norman said, “But, I don’t remember reading anything in the Bible that proved that our pets would make it to Heaven after they died.”
“That is true,” Martin agreed. “No, the Bible is, indeed, silent when it comes to educating us on any kind of afterlife for animals. However, we believers know about God’s promise to those fortunate enough to inherit His kingdom. When you get a chance, be sure to study 1 Corinthians, Chapter 2, verse 9. It is a key verse for any unbeliever: But as it is written: Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor have entered into the heart of man the things which God has prepared for those who love Him.” Martin shrugged. “I suppose there’s only one way to find out for sure, and, that is to make it to Heaven yourself and find out first-hand!”
Andrew hugged Norman. “I’d best be on my way now. It was very nice to meet you, Norman. Feel free to stop my family’s mansion anytime. We have lots and lots of animals looking to adopt a heavenly family.”
Norman laughed. “It was good to meet you, too, Andrew, and I will definitely be stopping by soon. It’s nice to know that the animals are the ones adopting their families now, instead of the other way around.”
“Yes,” Martin smiled. “Our Father does have a good sense of humor, doesn’t He?” He hugged Andrew again. “Come visit again soon, Andrew; and, please tell your parents hello for me.”
“I’ll do that Mr. Martin! I’ll be seeing you again real soon.”
Martin watched while Andrew quickly faded into the distance. He turned to Norman and locked elbows with him. “Come walk with me for a while, Norman. Andrew said you had some questions you needed answered. I will do my best to answer them for you.”
“Thank you,” Norman smiled up at the tall, skinny black man whom everyone seemed to turn to for answers. “I wasn’t sure if we were supposed to question anything once we got here or not.”
“Nonsense!” Martin guffawed. “However is anyone to learn what they need to know if they don’t first ask a question?”
The two continued walking along a golden-brick path, their elbows still locked together. A slight breeze stirred the thousands of golden daffodils that lined the path on both sides.
A warmth came over Norman and he closed his eyes. “That breeze—I feel it every once in a while—it seems to come out of nowhere. I mean, there’s no real weather here, so what is it?”
“You mean you haven’t guessed that yet?” Martin’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
Norman shook his head. “No. All I know is that every time it happens, my breath ceases for a moment and I feel like I’m the only one in existence…I don’t really know quite how to explain it, other than to say that time seems to—stop—until the breeze passes by.”
“Yes, I like that!” Martin laughed. “That’s a very good way to explain it, Norman. However, my friend, you need to know that every time you feel that breeze? Well…that is your Heavenly Father walking alongside you…”
Norman gasped. “Oh…oh!”
“If you think that took the wind out of your sails, just wait until He speaks to you!”
Norman was unable to speak for the next several minutes, so the two continued to walk along t
he serene path until they came to a golden bench situated between two of the hugest weeping willow trees that Norman had ever seen.
Martin guided Norman to the bench. He sat down and patted the spot next to him. “Have a seat, Norman, and let’s talk about the questions you have.”
“Well…” Norman sighed. “My questions really seem pretty insignificant…especially, after what you just told me.”
“Don’t be silly, there is no such thing as an insignificant question. Go ahead, question number one is?”
Norman took a deep breath and looked around him, waiting for another unexpected breeze to surround him. When it didn’t come, he took another deep breath and looked directly into Martin’s warm, brown eyes. Those eyes seemed to be smiling at him in anticipation. “Okay, here goes. The first question is simple, really. Everything I learned from the Bible convinced me that my former sexual orientation was a…sin. So, if that is true, why and how am I here?”
“It is not my place, nor anyone else’s place to judge you for the life style you chose to live before you became a Christian, Norman. That is between you and God, only. Trust me, you will be having this conversation with Him one day. We have watched from Heaven while man has rewritten the law, but one thing is for certain—man will never, ever be able to rewrite the word of God; and, God’s word is undeniable. Homosexuality is, indeed, a sin; however, there is only one sin that is truly unforgivable. You will understand this better when you study Matthew 12:31-32, which explains to us what the one, unforgivable sin is—blasphemy of the Holy Spirit.”
“So, God forgives me for the way I chose to live my life back then?”
“Indeed, He does. It doesn’t matter what sin you committed—we are all sinners; however, the grace of God runs so much wider and deeper than any of us will ever know or understand. His grace is our salvation.”
Norman shook his head and closed his eyes. “I read all this in the Bible, but, I guess I truly did not believe it was really possible. So…there are sinners in Heaven?”
Martin waved his long index finger. “There are repented sinners in Heaven, my friend…repented being the key word. We all sin. It is virtually impossible to live a full life on earth and not sin, but we are all forgiven for those sins, provided we ask for that forgiveness and believe that He will grant it. My goodness, sin seems to be EVERYWHERE, doesn’t it?” Martin waited a few moments for everything he had said to sink in before he continued. “Alright, so, on to question number two.”
Norman shuffled his bare feet against the softest grass he had ever walked upon. “What about the person who took my life? Will he end up in Heaven? Will I come face-to-face with him again one day?”
“Murder is one of the worst sins, in my humble opinion,” Martin began. If you know your Bible, then you know that there is abundant scriptural support for the death penalty. Exodus 21:12-14, for instance: He who strikes a man so that he dies shall surely be put to death. However, if he did not lie in wait, but God delivered him into his hand, then I will appoint for you a place where he may flee. But if a man acts with premeditation against his neighbor, to kill him by treachery, you shall take him from my altar, that he may die.”
“So…does that mean that the person who killed me won’t make it to Heaven?”
“I did not say that, Norman. It is true, that in that particular scripture, God commands that anyone who kills another person on purpose should be put to death.”
Norman nodded. “Okay, so if the person who killed me didn’t do it on purpose, there’s a good chance that we’ll meet again in Heaven one day?”
“That depends entirely on that person’s relationship with God when he dies. On earth, of course, it is up to society to enforce God’s law. God does not put that person to death; he expects the people to do the right thing by carrying out His law. There is no refuge for a murderer; however, our God is a fair God, and be assured, that He differentiates between murder and accidental killing—or, manslaughter—as society refers to it. ”
Norman grew quiet again. “I don’t think that the person who killed me intended for me to die, Martin.”
“Why do you think that, Norman?”
“Because of the look I saw in his eye before I fell to the ground. I knew, then, that it was an accident that could not be undone. I think he was scared when my head hit that wall—and, that really did hurt, by the way.”
“I’m sure it did, my friend. It hurts even more, doesn’t it, when the person who kills you is someone you consider a friend.”
“What do you mean, Martin? I didn’t know the person who killed me.”
Martin knew the truth, but he also knew that Norman had to come to his own conclusions about what happened. “Really? You didn’t? But, I thought that Skipper was a part of your little group that camped in the thicket across from the Heavenly Grille Café.”
“What has Skipper got to do with any of this?” Norman was stunned and confused. “Are you telling me that everyone believes that Skipper had something to do with my death?”
Martin nodded. “The man has been arrested for your murder, yes. Apparently, there was a witness to the crime. She said she saw everything that happened and felt it was her civic duty to report the truth to the police. I believe her name was…Stella Seiber.”
Norman was shaking his head adamantly from side to side. “Oh, no…that’s not what happened at all! Skipper had nothing to do with any of this. He wasn’t even in the camp when it happened. His sleeping bag was empty when I woke up to take care of business, if you know what I mean. I saw the bag of food that Doug had left on top of his sleeping bag, and I just knew that there was another piece of that fantastic buttermilk cake inside the bag. I hate to say it, but I took that piece of cake. I took food from another homeless person. I’m so ashamed, but—no—Skipper did not kill me. It was a young kid—a teenager. I had never seen him before, but there were three others with him. They were just messing around, pushing me between them. My dang feet got tangled up on the last push and I fell hard against that concrete wall. Oh, no, Martin—we have to do something to make this right. Skipper did nothing wrong!”
“There’s nothing we can do about it, Norman, so please calm down and relax. We cannot interfere with anything that may transpire on earth. It may all work out in the end. Who knows, maybe your death will simply be added to all the other unsolved murder cases of Floyd County, Georgia.”
“I wouldn’t think that Rome, Georgia would have that many unsolved cases,” Norman answered back, trying not to let his frustration get the best of him.
“Oh, there’s a few, alright,” Martin said. “Like the case of a 30-year old mother of four who was last seen leaving a tavern around nine o’clock in the evening of May 7, 1982. Her skeletal remains were found within a mile of that tavern about six months later. Ten years later, there was a man reported as missing; his body was discovered a month later—police thought it might be a case of where a prostitute lured him in and her pimp or boyfriend killed him, but they could never prove anything concrete. I remember another one that happened in February of 1980. The nearly obliterated skeletal remains of a 58-year old man that went missing were found inside a burned building. The police thought that whoever killed him piled tires on top of him and burned them. Again, lots of suspects, but the police were unable to gather enough physical evidence to convict anyone. Well-intentioned Christians often tell family members, in these situations, that God works in mysterious ways.”
“I’ve heard that expression more times than I can remember,” Norman nodded.
Martin’s hands flew up in exasperation. “As if God was actually responsible for allowing the murder to occur in the first place! God gave man free will and made him responsible for the execution of judgment, so He certainly is not at fault for man’s failure to obey His law. It is man’s failure to execute judgment that results in the continuing growth of criminal behavior.”
“Geez, my death seems sort of ordinary and boring compared to all that,” Norman
mused.
“The number of solved crimes—the percentage of solved crimes that actually lead to an arrest—in America, has dropped substantially in the past 50 years, from around 90% in 1965 to around 64% in 2012. This means that more than 211,000 homicides committed since 1980 remain unsolved.” Martin placed his hands upon his knees and pushed up off the bench. “My, my, this is such depressing conversation, my friend. Please don’t dwell too much on what happened, or what may happen. It is out of your control. Everything will work out according to God’s plan.”
“I know you’re right, Martin, but I still feel badly for Skipper. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“Nobody deserves to be accused of a crime they did not commit, Norman. We just have to have comfort and faith that whatever happens will be as it is meant to be. Even we angels don’t know the outcome of every situation—and, this is one of those situations. It will certainly be interesting to see how it all unfolds.”
Norman stood up and sighed. “I understand, Martin. It is what it is.”
Martin nodded. “Yes, it is! I like that—it is what it is!”
“For what happens to the sons of men also happens to animals; one thing befalls them: as one dies, so dies the other. Surely, they all have one breath; man has no advantage over animals, for all is vanity. All go to one place; all are from the dust, and all return to dust. Who knows the spirit of the sons of men, which goes upward and the spirit of the animal, which goes down to the earth?” Ecclesiastes 3:19-21 (NKJV)
CHAPTER 17
The Morning After the Revelation
Jason woke up before dawn on Friday, February 5. Sleep had not come easy to him the night before; the revelation that he was a father to a fourteen-year old boy/man had kept sleep at bay for most of the night. He sat up on the pull-out sofa that had been turned into a bed for him the night before. An ice storm had indeed hit their area, and Cheryl had insisted that he stay with them. Jason did not want her driving under icy conditions, so he had reluctantly agreed. He threw the covers off and reached for his jeans and shirt that he had draped over the recliner. He was buttoning his shirt when Jimmy walked into the room.
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