by Dan Edmund
Chapter 8 - An Afternoon of Leisure
I woke up with only my parents still sitting next to me, and Cory not far away.
"How long have I slept?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.
"Oh, not for very long. It doesn't matter anyway," Mum casually replied.
I knew what she meant. There was something mercifully missing that seemed ubiquitous in the world I had known. It was that relentless sense of urgency, that constant looking and battling against the clock. Here in Paradise, the only clocks were God's own chronometers: the movement of the sun during the day, and the moon and stars at night.
I stretched and yawned and slowly got up. "So what do we do now?" I asked.
"Well, son, that's all up to you," my father answered. "Like I said this morning, the afternoon is usually the time where we go about our own interests. As you can see, nobody is working anymore." He shrugged his shoulders. "As for us, I don't know, but I thought maybe we could go for a walk and show you around the place. Maybe we can walk along the river. What do you say?"
"Sure, that's okay by me," I replied. Seeing I was awake, Cory then came to my side. "What about you, Cory? Feel like going for a walk?" I patted his head. Cory wagged his tail. I laughed. "Stupid question, right?"
Thus, we went home, exchanged our working garb for our robes and sandals, and strolled with Cory along the trail by the river's bank that led to Mount Anastasis. However, instead of veering up towards the mountain, we continued eastwards. I recalled the deer I had seen yesterday and casually remarked about their absence.
"Oh, I'd say they just wandered off to some grazing area," my mother answered. "They come back and forth all the time. Sometimes they cross the bridge further up."
"What bridge?" I asked.
"Just straight ahead of us," she replied.
"I don't see any bridge." I hesitated, then added, "Wait. Yes, I can. Ah, or at least something."
Mum smiled. "Of course, you can. Remember, your eyes are much better now. Just focus on what you want to see."
I focused onto a small speck in the distance. By some miracle, the speck then transformed itself into a small wooden bridge. Nearby, I saw some movement in the water, and by focusing a little harder, I clearly saw some children. "Wow! It's like having telescopic sight!"
My father chuckled. "Yeah, it's amazing all right. It takes a while to get used to all those improved senses of ours. It did with me at least." Dad cocked his ear. "If you keep perfectly still and quiet you can even hear the children playing. Try it, son, and you'll realize that you can now hear as good as a dog."
I tried and was likewise surprised to hear the unmistakable sound of children at play, albeit faintly.
In fact, there were four children, the total population of all the children in our village, although I was told there were thousands of other children scattered in similar villages throughout the world.
"Were most of them born here?" I asked.
"No, none of them were," my father replied. Then, to my surprise, he added, "Apart from the occasional animals, nobody ever gets born here in Paradise. They are either survivors of Armageddon, or else had died young and were therefore resurrected as children, as was the case with the three girls and one boy in our village."
"Do you mean resurrected at exactly the same stage of development as when they died?" I asked.
Dad nodded. "Yeah, and, of course, they grow up into adults. A couple were even babies when they were resurrected, and thus knew of no other kind of life. Ain't that so, Margaret?"
My mother concurred. "Yes, and they're very blessed not to have remembered the other life, with all its miseries that we had."
I mused over that statement for a while and later, upon seeing the children frolicking so carefree in the water, wholeheartedly agreed. Our arrival at the bridge only heightened my respect for them. One young girl even politely asked if she could play with Cory.
"Why certainly," my mother replied.
She called out to Cory, who immediately charged into the river, sending great jets of water into every direction, to the great delight of the children.
"That cute little thing," my father said, pointing towards a little black-haired girl, "is Carlos's daughter, Isabella. She was resurrected three years ago." Then, more somberly, he added, "Isabella apparently died when she was only four, when Carlos and his wife, Maria, were still young. Maria couldn't have any more children, and thus Isabella was their only child."
"I see. However, aren't there any adults here to supervise these young children?"
Dad chuckled. "No, there's no need to. These kids are perfectly safe here. Nothing can happen."
"But what if somebody was to drown or -"
"No, son, guaranteed not to happen," my father insisted. "Believe me, they're all perfectly safe." He then slapped me on the shoulder. "Even if they were to try to drown themselves, or hurt themselves on purpose, it simply wouldn't be possible. It's as if God, or at least some part of God's spiritual force, is here to ensure nothing could ever happen, not just to the children, but to all of us. Even if we were to somehow injure ourselves, we would instantly heal anyway."
I nodded, too dumbfounded to say anything. Yet, this was God's Paradise where everything seemed possible. The trees, the flowers, the birds, the mountains, the river, the sun, the weather, the food, the work, the people, the love, my new body, all seemed to sing the glory of God on high. In one swift moment, I soaked it all in, feeling the peace and joy that so sublimely radiated all around me. I smiled serenely and nodded my head once again in comprehension. Indeed, what a wonderful world this was, a world without any dangers, a world of perfect peace.
For a quite some time, we watched the innocence of Paradise children at play, but finally we continued with our walk, with a dripping wet dog by our sides. Soon the sunny grasslands yielded and the path plunged us into a majestic forest that covered both sides of the river. I had felt quite warm and welcomed now the refreshing coolness of the shade that the assortment of pine, chestnut and oak trees provided. I took a deep breath and reveled in the tranquility all around.
Suddenly, Mum pointed straight ahead. "Look!" she excitedly exclaimed.
There, in the clearing up ahead, a lone fawn was standing by itself. We then saw a gray timber wolf ambling straight towards it. The fawn only looked up and watched as the wolf passed it by and continued on through the woods.
"You see," my father said, "even animals are perfectly safe in this wonderful world."
For a minute or so, we watched the lone fawn feeding contentedly before we proceeded once more along the forest trail. Like gleams of gold, the sun's rays now filtered through the thick canopy of trees as a gentle cool breeze caressed our skin. For almost a mile we walked in silence, as each of us luxuriated in the loving hands of nature at its most benign. The only sound we heard was Cory's panting, the scuffling of our feet, and the rustling of leaves and branches swaying to and fro in rhythm to the dictates of a gentle breeze.
