Mary E. Donnell


Since my first days in the Cradle Roll Department of Sunday School, the merits of the bad place against the good place have been impounded upon my mind. In my childish fancy heaven represented a place where everyone wore water wings, balanced embroidery hoops on their heads, and sat all day on cloud tufts eating water melons. This connotation was no doubt derived from the picture Green Pastures. One of my first thoughts about heaven was that it would be very boring with everyone so good. I" had never heard of night in heaven and wondered if the angels ever became sleepy. My grandfather once remarked facetiously that he didn't want to go to heaven because none of his friends would be there.



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