Not heaven bound

No sooner has we walked into the tiny living room then we were handed beautiful demitasse cups filled with thick sweet Cuban coffee. Rosa led me to their front desk, where we settled into chairs for conversation, sipping espresso. She spoke English well and so we discussed children, her job, and the neighborhood.

Soon her husband poked his head out the door. “I would like to show you our back yard.”

So we set down our cups to step through the tiny house and view his backyard, which was little more than a large deck with some potted plants. The wood was scrubbed clean and the plants were strong and healthy.

A few pieces of clothing hung on a line across the deck and Rosa pointed at the little washing machine wedged under a corner of the roof. “That’s where I wash,” she said.

“Our driver is here!” my husband said suddenly. “We need to go.”

And so we quickly said goodbyes and headed for the street. Then I remembered the espresso cup. It was a beautiful piece of china that I didn’t want left on the front step.

I scurried over to find it and hand it to Rosa. “I didn’t want this to get lost. It is so beautiful!”

She smiled gently. “It’s OK,” she said to me. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t go to heaven.”

And in that moment, I felt stripped of much of the American materialism I had brought with me.

So that’s my new motto: “Will this go to heaven?” If not, it doesn’t matter. I might enjoy it for the moment but it needn’t have a hold on my life.

Jesus said it simply:

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.