Long ago when I was a child I used spend a lot of time looking in our family Bible. This was not an ordinary Bible but a beautifully illustrated Bible. Besides the holy scriptures there were pages and pages of reference materials. There was a list of prayers for all occasions. There was a space to list important family milestones, Marriages, Ordanations, Births, Deaths and Baptisms and so on. There was also a Catholic Encyclopedia at the appendix of the Bible. There were also pictures: tons of them! There were paintings from scenes of the old and new testiments. There were marvolous photos of the holy land today (or at least when the book was published which was in the 1950s. These showed arabic looking men and women. It showed men fishing and sowing seeds as they did in ancient times. There were pictures of Nazarath, Bethlahem and Jerusalem. To me it seemed that the holy land was a wonderful place, overgrown with olive trees and lush green pastures.

There were also pictures of Rome. A regal city full of ancient splendor. Rome was a timeless place. The photos of St Peters were magnificant. The photos of the Sistine Chapel, painted by Michelangelo were breathtaking beyond belief. I truely believed that these paintings were a window into heaven.

The immages I saw made a deep impression into my young mind. Being a child I truely believed without a doubt that heaven existed and that the pictures I saw in the family Bible were truely those of Heaven. When I went to sleep at night I often dreamed of heaven. Perhaps it may seem odd for some to immagine a child so preoccupied with the afterlife but for me it was quite normal. As a pre schooler and during my early education, my parish church was the center of life. I listened with awe as I heard my father tell me about God, Jesus and the world beyond this one. I attended Church every Sunday and saw the great mystery before me.

For a true Catholic, every Sunday was a special occasion. The year was marked by a progression of events that defined ones faith. Advent was the wait until Christmas which marked a joyful period. Then came Epithany, when the gifts were brought to the Christ Child. Then came Lent, a solemn time of fasting and self denyal. I remember taking the ashes on the forhead as a symbol of humility and reminder that from ashes we started and to ashes we would end. Then came Good Friday. I would sit in church with my family and listen to the stations of the cross and recall Christs' final moments. It was a time of great sadness to recall the terrible time when Christ died for all men. Then came Easter, the triumph of Christ over death. Then Came Pentecost when Christs followers accepted his mission and went out into the world.

So I wondered, what is heaven? What is this "final reward" that awaits us all. Being a child I immagened it as a mighty open air place, high on a hill, surrounded by lush green grassy fields and meadows. The halls of heaven appeared as might Grecian style temples. Or perhaps it was as my father put it, a "Great Tavern In the Sky". My fathers little joke was something I took very literly. I immagined a place full of old codgers each sitting behind a table, each with a full glass of beer, listening to old timer music and laughing and remembering the old times. This was no doubt a male heaven. I supposed that the women had a heaven of their own, probibly a baby shower where they drank coffee and had sweet cakes and other goodies. Or maybe it was as my mother often said a place where your can eat and eat and not get fat.

As I grew up, religion played less and less a role in my life. I never lost my belief but somehow, there was always something more important. For a while I stopped going to church. I know it sounds terrible but I really got fed up with the whole thing. I was old enough to drive and made excuses for not going with mom and dad and told them I would go to afternoon mass. Well I missed mass, instead driving off to play video games at the arcade or have a beer with friends.

When I went off to college I spent a year at a Catholic College. It was a small place and not a particularly Christian environment. I saw a lot of superficial meanness which was being passed for Christianity. It made me very angry to hear people talk about being Catholic while at the same time drinking, sleeping around and being mean to eachother. It was a terrible experience for me. At that time I broke off my attachments to the Catholic Church.

Well it happened later on that I refound my faith. It happened stortly before my marriage. I married a woman who was not Catholic but we married in the church so I felt it was up to me to maintain a Christian house. This was especially important to me when my daughter was born. I then knew I was given a gift from God, with an awsome responsibility.

Today I have come full circle. I am now a seeker of truth. I do believe in God as much as before but my faith is no longer child like. I am cynical about the Bible, as the final authority of God. I have some misgivings about whether the Bible is a book of God or of Man. No doubt it was inspired by God but was everything inside true?

I also look to Heaven. What is my heaven? Is it the type of place shown in What Dreams May Come? Is there such a thing as reincarnation? What will happen after Death?

I remeber a particular song by Enya, China Roses. Its a beautiful song about her view of Heaven. She gives vivid details of Chrimson Roses and Scarlet Ribbons. Listening to this song I immagine rowing on a quiet stream surrounded by lillies and orchids under a beautiful cloudless sky. The air is gentle without so much as a breeze. Could that be heaven?

Maybe heaven is what we make of it.