On clouds in Heaven, some may play harps soft and slow.
Don’t search for me there. I have better places to go.
While God’s angels play their tunes in a delightful key,
I’ll will kindly tip my hat and say, “That’s not for me.”
Gravestones marked REST IN PEACE make me sigh.
I won’t be resting on a recliner beneath a sunny sky.
Others have earned their rest. That perfectly fair.
But don’t check those chairs. I won’t be there.
Some may wander off to the beach with warm sand,
A drink in one hand, feeling a breeze nice and bland.
They’ll nap by the waves with sun bleaching their hair.
Indeed, all that sounds lovely, but I won’t be there.
I don’t know what my assignment will be.
There’s no job title posted or sign I can see.
But one thing is certain, as sure as can be:
I’ll be busy where work is eternally the key.
Where effort bears fruit and the work truly pays,
Where joy grows from purpose that lasts all the days,
I’ll be where love matters, where goodness fills the air.
Where that work is to be done … you’ll find me there.
