On Letting It Go(d)
Once upon a time there was a very old man from the lovely island of Crete in the Mediterranean. He loved his land with a deep and beautiful intensity, so much so that when he knew that he was about to die he had his sons bring him outside to lay him on his beloved earth. As he was about to expire he reached down by his side and clutched some earth into his hands. He died a happy man. He then appeared before Heaven’s Gates. God, as an old white-bearded man, came out to greet him.
“Welcome,” He said. “You’ve been a good man. Please come into the joys of heaven.”
But as the old man started to enter the pearly gates, God said, “Please, you must let the soil go.”
“Never!” said the old man, stepping back. “Never!”
And so God departed sadly, leaving the old man outside the gates. A few eons went by. God came out again, this time as a friend; an old drinking crony. They had a few drinks, told some stories, and then God said, “All right, now it’s time to enter heaven, friend. Let’s go.” And they started for the pearly gates. And once more God requested that the old man let go of his soil and once more he refused. More eons rolled by. God came out once more, this time as a delightful and playful granddaughter.
“Oh Grandad,” she said, “You’re so wonderful and we all miss you. Please come inside with me.”
The old man nodded and she helped him up, for by this time he had grown extremely old and arthritic—in fact, so arthritic was he that he had to prop up the right hand holding Crete’s soil with his left hand. They moved toward the pearly gates, and at this point his strength gave out. His gnarled fingers would no longer stay clenched in a fist, with the result that the soil of Crete sifted out between his fingers until his hand was empty. He entered heaven, and the first thing he saw was his beloved island!
