The end of the story

Tonight, for the first time in my life, I called 911. I was on the freeway and found myself behind a white Mercedes that was drifting in and out of its lane. I followed it for a while to make sure the drift wasn’t a random occurrence, and when I’d seen enough repeats to believe the swerving to be chronic, I dialed (with a safe, hands-free device, of course). 

After I hung up and safely passed the car (which had slowed to below 50mph), I spent the rest of my drive wondering what happened next. Did the driver get off at the next exit? Did the highway patrol track down the car? Was the driver drunk, or on the phone, or falling asleep? Was this the first incidence of such driving for this person, or was it a pattern? Did the car hit anyone or anything? 

The more I thought about it, the more I thought of other stories from my life whose endings I wish I knew - like the stories of several people I got to know during my CPE hospital chaplaincy, including the mom who delivered stillborn twin boys whose tiny foreheads I baptized with drops of water in the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Or the person who was intended to receive the message that was accidentally left on my voicemail some months ago giving detailed instructions about bringing home someone on parole. Or the many people to whom I’ve given directions on the street – sometimes more clearly (or accurately) than others. Or all the fellow passengers I’ve talked to on airplanes crisscrossing the country. How did things end up for all of them? Did they get what they needed? Did they recover? Did they find what they were looking for? Did they get home safely?

I sometimes say that I think heaven is a place where we get to see everyone as they were meant to be – no frills or flashiness or plastic surgery, but no woundedness or broken-down-ness or despair, either. We get to understand what made people do bad things and what made them do good things, but more importantly we get to see into their hearts and know what they should have been or could have been, and love them and be loved for the person each of us was created to be.

I think maybe heaven is also a place where we get to hear the end of stories. We get to find out what happened to that special person we lost track of years ago, or to the guy whose car we dinged but didn’t leave a note, or the neighbor who borrowed our lawnmower and then moved away without giving it back. Perhaps we also get to find out what could have happened, if only…

And maybe in heaven, all those things – however they turned out, or could have turned out – will be okay, because the Real end, the True end of all things will be clear, too. All of what was and could have been and should have been will be wrapped up inside the embrace of What Is.

And – my hope is – that will be all we need to know.