Will There Be Chocolate in Heaven?

By Anita Down Schacher

Eighty percent of those who walk the Earth today believe in some form of life after death. Teachings, ideas, opinions, and even reports on near-death experiences are as varied as the flowers in my garden. Whether it be streets of gold or gravel, heavenly beings clothed in white robes and sandals, or jeans and sneakers, mansions or tents, it is my belief, and conclusion, that in the next life there awaits for us everything good and nothing bad. If you can imagine a world where all is love, you can imagine Heaven. And chocolate? As a young woman of ninety-nine reminded me, chocolate contains amino acid and that is what we produce when we're in a state of elation, like love. So I guess we can say, where there is love, there is bound to be chocolate!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Apr 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9781098017040

Book preview

Chapter One

Dreaming of Riches

From time to time, I speculate upon what I’d do with the windfall, or is it win fall, if I were to win the lottery, strike it rich with a scratch-it ticket, or win a Publisher’s Clearing House drawing. Of course, I’d probably have to buy a ticket first, or send in the annoying notices. I sometimes draw on this exercise, What would I do? to expedite sleep when it eludes me.

Another scenario, much more fun than an undeserved win, is to write a bestseller. A book that appeals to and is read by a large audience of readers and builds up my almost nonexistent savings account.

So what would I do with this stash of cash? Well, in addition to adding some sheckles to my bank account, I’d pay off my debts, of which fortunately, I have few, and pay off my children’s debts of which they have, well, more than me. I’d also like to have the resources to help finance the dreams of my children and grandchildren. But I’ve heard that a free gift is not always good. Sometimes the journey towards a goal is far more meaningful than achieving it. Especially one in which you have no sweat equity.

A new home would be in the equation. Probably two. One at the beach with a fireplace, Jacuzzi tub, ocean view, and another in a warm environment with a swimming pool. I’d also quickly replace my Subaru that is approaching the one hundred thousand-mile marker. I’d buy another Subaru. I wonder if I can get royalties for mentioning specific brands in published works? Hmm.

I’d like to travel. At the head of the list, if my aging and not-so-healthy body would allow it, a trip to Europe would be in order. I’d like to walk on the green grass of Ireland from where my grandmother’s family emigrated, drink a glass of really good wine in Italy, tour the cathedrals of Germany. Then I’d buy one of those one hundred thousand-dollar camping vans and explore the United States and Canada.

And I’d donate to some of my favorite causes. I think that’s a requirement.

But seven million dollars, or even seventy million dollars, has its limitations. Money will not eradicate illness nor alleviate evil, inequality, ignorance, deprivation, or prejudice, to name but a few.

It was contemplating what my dream winnings couldn’t buy that got me thinking about Heaven. Why don’t I image Heaven with the same enthusiasm I consider striking it rich on Earth? Is it because the thought of sitting around in a white gown playing a harp holds little appeal? My usual attire is denim jeans, a sweatshirt, and sandals with colorful socks that annoy my children and delight the grandchildren. But I suppose one should dress appropriately for the occasion, and meeting God might entail a more heavenly attire.

I’d also prefer to play the organ or piano, perhaps even the saxophone, to coaxing tunes from a harp, and play in a swing band rather than an orchestra. I wouldn’t mind adding my alto voice to a heavenly choir. That would be fun. Especially if I could be assured there would be no notes sung off key.

And what is with streets of gold? I can’t really imagine walking along a road paved in a precious metal. And if we are going to be flying, what do we need with roads, paved in gold or otherwise? I think perhaps roads made of dirt that don’t turn into mud or dust might be good.

Streets of gold bring to mind the story of the man who was very rich and wanted to take it with him. He arrived at the gates into the kingdom with a burlap bag filled with heavy gold bars. St. Peter, or whoever was at the gate, greeted him and asked, Why did you bring paving bricks?

I might also be avoiding thoughts of a journey to Heaven because the idea of being called into judgment by an omnipotent God is a bit frightening. No wonder I don’t dream about it. Yep, my life has been less than exemplary. On several occasions. No, none of the biggies like theft and murder, but some that may seem insignificant until viewed in totality. When added up they might earn me some demerits.

So to sum up this chapter, it should come as no surprise that my thoughts of riches focus more frequently on attaining wealth, peace, and purpose on Earth, rather than in Heaven.

Chapter Two

Looking Forward to a Grand Reunion

I had once served as administrator of Clatsop Retirement Village located in Astoria, Oregon, but now retired, today I was a visitor. I had requested permission to speak with a group of residents and solicit their ideas and expectations about Heaven. Pat Grant, Betty Stutznegger, Evelyn Abrahams, Anne Hyde, and Ann Miller were my only volunteers. The youngest was seventy-something and the oldest just a few steps away from one hundred.

Is Heaven real? I asked this small group of gray-haired ladies seated around a square wooden table in a neighborhood community room. A nearby open kitchen area emanated with the smells of coffee and a plate of cookies on the counter tempted those who passed by.

Yes, was given unanimous voice, not unexpected when the notice on the activity calendar invited participants to talk about Heaven.

If it is real, then what do you imagine Heaven to be? was my next question.

The predominant theme echoed and returned to several times was the hope, the expectation, to meet loved ones who have passed on. A grand reunion. It was the general observation, made not without some humor, that friends and family in Heaven numbered higher than those remaining among them. And this glorious reunion, they agreed, would be filled with love, peace, and harmony. Gone will be any differences and misunderstandings that caused tension or discord.

A major component to the peace in Heaven, the group agreed, will be knowledge, understanding, and the total dominance of love. Perfect love that surpasses our understanding. And this love will walk hand in hand with kindness.

The topic then strayed to sharing incidents where they had felt the presence of a deceased loved one.

It was my sixtieth wedding anniversary, Anne shared. I was really, really missing my husband who had been a part of my life for so many years. That night, he came to me in a dream. It was so real. I knew it was a dream and yet, I also knew that in that moment he was with me in an absolute way. He put his arms around me and said, ‘I love you.’ I awoke still feeling his presence and the comfort his nocturnal visit had brought me.

Betty shared she found pennies that she knew without a doubt, were sent to her from Heaven while Pat told of butterflies that appeared and reminded her of the love she had shared with her mother.

I interrupted to contribute my own story.

My mother loved the beach, but as she aged, the walks she cherished were no longer an option. Not without some difficulty, I’d put her in the passenger seat of my car and head out to the beach for a drive along the ocean’s shore. She loved it. On one trip we encountered a large group of pelicans.

What are those birds? she asked.

Why, Mom, they’re pelicans. Have you never seen one?

Not that I recall, she answered. They are so unusual, prehistoric looking. Stop the car so we can watch them.

No problem, Mom. I find them quite fascinating as well. When the day comes that you enter the gates of Heaven, perhaps you could send a pelican to let me know you made it.

I’ll see what I can do, she said with a laugh.

It was only a few months after this adventure when my mom began the dying process, two days before the scheduled wedding of my daughter. My brother and I sat in her room at Clatsop Care Center in Astoria, Oregon, sitting on opposite sides of her bed.

What are we going to do? I asked him referring to the wedding. He was to be the officiant at the nuptials.

You are the mother of the bride, he said. You have to be there. I can make some calls and find another minister to officiate.

I left him about ten that evening and went home to get some rest prior to the 150-mile trip to the Oregon Gardens in Silverton, Oregon, where the wedding was to be held. Needless to say, I didn’t sleep. About 4:00 a.m. the phone next to my bed rang. It was my brother telling me Mom had breathed her last. I reminded him of the arrangements we’d made and he said, I’ll take care of it. And it looks like I’ll make it to the wedding.

That evening, we were surrounded by the warmth and love of friends and family at the wedding rehearsal. My brother came up to me and said, Mom sent the pelican.

What? Where? Did you go down on the beach?

No, he answered. I was driving down to the mortuary and happened to look out on the pier above the river. A lone pelican sat on the pier’s railing.

Pelicans are never alone, I told him as tears flooded my eyes. And certainly not alone on a river pier.

The next day, a hummingbird hung around during the ceremony. More than one person noticed and commented how unusual it was for this bird to just sit on a tree branch.

I think it is, Mom, I shared. Perhaps she decided a hummingbird was more attractive than the brown pelican.

Next to share was Evelyn. She shared a story of an event that occurred after the death of her husband that gave us all goosebumps.

Each morning, religiously, at 8:00 a.m., my husband would wind up the chains on the clock that hung on the wall in our living room. He died unexpectedly and the morning after his death our entire family was gathered around the table in the dining room having breakfast. We were mixing our breakfast with laughter and tears when we heard the clock’s chains. We rushed into the living room to find the clock had been wound up. Incredulous, we looked at each other. There was no one in the house but the family gathered and, no one but the family knew his habit of winding the clock. It was exactly 8:00 a.m. It never happened again.

Heaven will be better than earth, they told me. There will be the absence of evil with ‘no bad stuff.’ Gone will be the mental and physical anguish that afflict us on earth. No more pain and suffering. No more witnessing the pain and suffering of others.

Even the bees won’t sting us,