Heaven's Little Mix Up
Father Harold had spent more than four decades serving his little parish, so when he passed and found himself waiting at the Pearly Gates, he stood tall, ready for his reward.
In front of him was a fellow in dark sunglasses, a loud patterned shirt, a leather jacket, and jeans—hardly what Harold expected to see in the “admissions line,” but he minded his own business.
Saint Peter greeted the man first. “Name, please?”
“Bill,” the fellow said. “Retired airline pilot.”
Peter checked the list, smiled, and handed Bill a beautiful silken robe and a gleaming golden staff. Off the pilot went, looking like royalty.
Then Peter turned to Father Harold. “And you are?”
“Father Harold,” he said proudly. “Pastor for 43 years.”
Peter nodded, found his name, and handed him… a cotton robe and a simple wooden staff.
The priest blinked. “Forgive me, but that gentleman before me was a pilot and he received silk and gold. I’ve spent my life in service—why cotton and wood?”
Saint Peter gave a gentle smile. “Up here, we go by results. When you preached, people slept. When he flew… people prayed.”
