I died and went to heaven,
and as the blinding light and holy fog cleared,
I noticed I was wearing an apron.
I was surprised to see the people in hell,
and I welcomed the irresistible urge to join them in their suffering,
to love them in that way,
powerless to change their situation,
yet drawn to console as best I could,
to share the pain in silence,
and to share my hope,
my belief that the point,
the ultimate point,
is not the suffering, but the connection.
And when he looked up,
I recognized his face as Jesus.