Category: Inspirational Stories

“On December 29th, 1973, I took my girlfriend along with 15 kids from two church youth groups to the Mt. Baker Ski Area for a day of inner tube sliding in the snow. After lunch I took the group to a hill outside of the ski area. It was a hill which we had nicknamed ‘Deadman’s Run’ for its length and steepness.

The Glory train sat at the depot. Its black painted engine, with polished brass piping, head light, and bell, hissed with escaping steam while puffs of coal smoke drifted up through the forward stack. Eight first class passenger cars were attached to the engine and  waiting to be loaded. Looking inside the cars, one could see elegant interiors and seating, with tables on which a gourmet meal would be served during the travel. I walked down to the train depot early that Saturday morning, wanting to see if there were passengers, I might know, who were leaving on their journey.

The depot, built many years before, was elevated with its wood planking platform, which surrounded the building, level with the passenger car steps.  Streetlights on the platform illuminated the building and the walkways, giving the passengers the feeling of warmth and safety.

The Glory train had only one destination and would make its journey once a day, at noon. The single track, which the cars rolled on, went from the depot, directly into the valley between two high mountain ranges which were covered with timber from the valley upward some two thousand feet. Above that, snow covered the rocky ridges above. The rails in the valley followed the bank of the  Crystal River which was fed by the cascading waterfalls flowing from the snowfields above.

                Outside, on the passenger platform, groups of people were starting to gather. These groups surrounded a loved-one, whom they were seeing off. There was much hugging and tears, but there was also joy knowing that there would be a reunion again one day. Soon, getting close to the departure hour, the platform was full of family groups — full to the point that groups were now forced to stand in the parking lot in front of the depot.  Sadly, it appeared that some passengers were leaving the station without the send-off of family or friends, and those individuals stood by themselves or with other solo travelers.

The passengers were not allowed to enter the cars until the stewards which worked each car, were given the order by the conductor, to open the doors. A half hour before departure, the engineer gave two short toots on the steam whistle and the stewards opened the passenger car doors for the riders. There were final hugs and kisses, and the passengers climbed the steps handing their tickets to the steward.  I noticed that none of the passengers boarded the train with any baggage.

At noon, all passengers were seated in their assigned car, they waved through the windows to the friends and families on the platform. The engineer gave one long blast on the steam whistle and the Glory train slowly left the station and started its long journey up the mountain valley along the Crystal River. Its forward stack sent a cloud of black smoke skyward which partially obscured the passenger cars behind. Slowly, the family and friends’ groups left the depot. Many were still dabbing their eyes with handkerchiefs.

The ticket for the Glory train can be purchased at any time in your life, but you do need a ticket to ride. I bought my ticket when I was eighteen years old. The interesting thing is, regardless of when you buy it, you can’t use it until you have been summoned. Which means you might buy your ticket and hold it for many years, or you may be told to immediately get on the train. I had been holding my ticket for 52 years and I had no idea when I would be summoned to use it. Then one day, I received a knock on my door.

When I opened it, there standing before me, was a tall young man dressed sharply in what looked like a chauffeur’s uniform. He removed his hat.

“Mr. T.L. Bottomsly?” he asked.

“Yes,” I answered.

He reached into his formal jacket and produced an envelope which he handed to me. Opening it, I slid out a Deckle-edged, fine quality linen card. The print on it was embossed in gold and read:

“You are hereby summoned to ride the Glory train in two weeks on the 17^th at noon. Please use this time to get your house in order.”

I thanked the man, and he replaced his hat, bowed, and returned to his car.

I must say that two feelings surged through my body. One, was joy. That the ride I had waited to take for so long, was now going to happen. The second, was the shock of having to get my house in order and tell my family and friends that I had been summoned.

The next two weeks were chaotic. Family and friends were contacted. I put my house and all my worldly belongings in order. There was no need to take anything of earthly value with me for the trip.

On the 17^th, I locked and left my home for the last time, and with only the clothes on my back, I walked to the depot. I wanted to be early and when I arrived, there was only a small group on the platform. The train was there, and the cars were in place. The stewards were inside, busily touching up the interiors for the passengers. In one of the cars, I could smell the aroma of breakfast scones being baked and the strong smell of brewing coffee. I felt the tingle of apprehension knowing that I had waited for so long to ride this train, and once I left the depot, I would never come back to this place where I had lived for so many years.

Slowly, the platform began to fill, and soon a great many friends and family surrounded me, some with tears in their eyes but many with smiles. They all had memories they wanted to share and there were many hugs and kisses. I assured them that I would miss them, but I hoped to see them all again at some point. My final request of them was this: “Buy a ticket. Tell all your family and friends to buy a ticket and we will meet again someday.”

The engineer gave two short toots on the steam whistle and the stewards opened the passenger car doors. I reached into my pocket and produced the old worn ticket which I had held for 52 years. Climbing the steps, I handed it to him and entered the car to find a seat. Looking out the window, I waved to my group.

Inside of my car, the anxious passengers all found a seat. There was much chatter  with hugs and handshakes. The seats were comfortable, and the stewards had the temperature adjusted to make sure that everyone was warm. Music played at a low volume through speakers mounted in the ceiling.

“Tea, coffee, and scones will be served after the train begins rolling,” our steward called out. “Please let me know if I can make your ride more comfortable.”

At noon, the engineer gave one long pull of the whistle and the engine slowly started chugging forward. Immediately, the passengers looked out the windows to the depot platform and found their group of family and friends. Everyone waved and blew kisses. There were tears in the cars as well as on the platform.

Once the cars had pulled away from the depot and began rolling up the valley, the thoughts of those who had been left behind, and the life you had before, began to fade away. There was new excitement now – the excitement of what awaited us at the end of the journey.

The stewards, who now took on the look of heavenly beings, began serving the warm drinks and blueberry scones, with as much butter as we wanted. It was also announced that our mid-afternoon meal was being prepared and would be served at 2:00 pm. The seats in the cars were loungers which reclined. The steward announced that there were pillows, slippers, and blankets in the overhead storage bins, should we choose to nap instead of watching our journey outside of the windows. I chose to watch the scenery go by.

 As we went up the valley, the tracks travelled over many bridges which crossed the winding, Crystal River. As we crossed, the sun shone brightly on the swiftly flowing current which splashed wildly over the rocks on its journey down the valley. Ducks and migrating geese could be seen in some of the pools. At one point, we passed a spot where the river was cascading over a boulder wall into a pool, and there, we saw four bears who were easily catching salmon who were jumping to get upstream to spawn.

On both sides of the valley, waterfalls could be seen as silver ribbons cascading down the sides of the mountains from the snow fields above. The afternoon sun shone brightly on the snow-covered mountain tops and the sky was a brilliant blue above. Soon, the train began to climb, and it left the Crystal River valley. We slowed as the engine worked hard to climb the grade. It was a daily trip, so I was certain that the engine could do it and not leave us to walk the remainder of the way.

Levelling out again, the train rolled through a mountain meadow. Elk, and moose, grazed in the tall grasses and drank from the ponds. They must have been accustomed to the Glory train passing through, for not one of them were spooked.

At 2:00 pm, the stewards began serving the mid-afternoon meal. Silver platters were brought into each car, each covered with a cloche to keep the food warm. Upon removing the domed covers, we were surprised to find elegantly prepared plates of roast beef, potatoes, beans and Yorkshire pudding, all covered in gravy. Salad and a finely baked dessert were also included. This was indeed a first-class trip.

After we had finished our meals, and the stewards removed our trays, I noticed that the train was continuing to climb higher up into the hills. The trees were thinning, and low blueberry and huckleberry bushes were replacing the Fir forests. I also noticed that we were not far from the base of the snowline. Boulder fields were also replacing the mossy, fern-covered floor of the dark forest. A Hind and a Roe bounded up the mountain side easily leaping from rock to rock.

It was at this time that I heard the engineer pull the steam whistle twice. I asked our steward what that meant.

“It means that we are about to enter the tunnel, sir. It alerts us to make sure that the interior lights are on.”

I looked out my window as far up the tracks as I could see, and sure enough, the engine was about to enter a tunnel. The steward turned up the interior lights at almost the same time that the outside world went black. We were in the tunnel.

“Please take your seats,” the steward called out. “Feel free to recline your seats and get comfortable. Remember that pillows and blankets are available. I will be turning down the lights when you are ready.” When he had seen that we were all seated, he dimmed the lights.

On the upper walls of the tunnel, fluorescent lights were mounted every 100 feet down the length. As our cars rolled under them, the interiors where we sat flashed. Because the train engine wasn’t moving fast when it entered the tunnel, the flashes would happen every five seconds, but soon, the flashes came at four, three, two, and one second until we couldn’t tell that the lights were spaced at all – which was interesting because I could not tell that the engine had increased its speed at all.

I do not know if it was the flashing lights, or my heavy meal, but I found myself drifting into a deep sleep. Talking to other passengers later, I learned that this was true for them also. We slept, traveling through the tunnel, for I don’t know how long, but at some point, as quickly as the train went dark when we entered the tunnel, we burst through into the light as we left it. The passengers started to wake – yawning and stretching their arms and backs.

Now, I cannot aptly describe the land that the Glory train was rolling through. As far as the eye could see on both sides, there were lush farmlands with cattle, horses, pigs, chickens, dogs, and cats. Farmers out working their fields, stopped and waved as the train passed. Rolling past farmhouses and barns, children could be seen playing, and women  setting picnic tables for dinner. The children jumped up and down, waving wildly at the train. On a country road following the tracks, two boys on bicycles tried to keep up with the passenger cars – laughing and waving as they pedaled as fast as they could.

The landscape had rolling hills, many of which were planted with all types of fruit and nut trees. There were acres of strawberry, raspberry, and blueberry fields – all of which had pickers in them, filling their baskets. Birds of every type sat in the passing trees and floated in the ponds and lakes, which were clearly stocked with jumping fish. There were even birds and animals which I had never seen before, except in drawings, for they had only been dug up as fossils in different parts of the world.

The flowers were brilliant with colors never seen on the other side of the tunnel, but I must note, that on the other side, I had bad color vision. Others in the car, put their hands over their ears because immediately, they could hear loud and clear. Some, with macular degeneration, cataracts and total blindness, suddenly could see with clarity. They pressed their faces against the window glass unable to speak of the beauty they were seeing. One older man who walked aboard the railcar with such a pronounced stoop, stood up straight and tall with no issues of the back at all. As a matter of fact, we all appeared to have perfect bodies and though we entered the tunnel aged and wrinkled, we appeared now to be young and vital.

Before the train rolled into the tunnel, the sun had set behind the mountains and there was little light outside. As we came out of the tunnel, the light was bright and glorious, and though I scanned the sky, I could not see its source. There were no airplanes above, but besides the birds, there appeared to be what only I can imagine to be angels with their broad white wings stretched out, moving over the skyline of this new land.

As the train continued, we left the farmlands and began passing through residential areas. Here, were lovely cottages, as well as mansions. Each yard was meticulously maintained. The hedges were trimmed, and the lawns mowed. The streets out in front were paved with what looked like gold. People walking the sidewalks waved. Some shouted, “Welcome!”

Finally, the train began to slow. The steward stood and announced, “We are shortly arriving at the Kingdom. Our trip is over.”

The final mile of the travel took us through what might be thought of as the business district. There were many small shops which sold much the same things that we could buy on the other side of the tunnel. The sidewalks on those streets were busy with people carrying purchases. They all waved at the train with a smile.

The train ended its run in what appeared to be a large park. It was the depot where we all were to disembark. It too was beautiful in every way which I have ever seen a park. As the engine applied brakes to the cars, I heard a roar, not unlike being in a large football stadium. Looking outside the windows, we saw thousands of people standing on the lawns and surrounding fields. Many of them held up signs with names on them.

The cars were now stopped at the platform and the passengers stood, unsure of what to do next.

The steward announced, “As I call your name, please step up to me and I will direct you to your group.

“Sadie Clark!”

Sadie walked forward and the steward bent forward and looked out the window.

“Over there, Sadie,” he said pointing.

She looked out and saw her name on a sign far out in the crowd.

“Welcome.” The steward smiled and helped her down the steps.

The crowd on the ground cheered and let her walk through them like a rock star at a concert. The closer she got to her sign, the louder the cheering grew. This happened with every passenger in the car.

“Ted Bottomsly!”

“Right here,” I said, raising my hand. I walked up to him, but had already spotted a sign in the field which read, T.L. Bottomsly.

“I think that I know where I am going,” I said.

Thanking him, I stepped from the car onto the platform into the sea of smiling faces. It was a bit of a struggle at first. Like a salmon swimming upstream, but soon I was within a short distance of my sign. When they saw me, they came at me as a mob, yelling my name, arms in the air.

 I could not believe it. There was my mom and dad who had convinced me at an early age to buy my ticket. I saw my grandparents on both sides. I recognized aunts, uncles, and cousins. There were many of my high school friends and of course people I recognized from church, including my Sunday School teachers who also encouraged me greatly to buy my ticket for the train. People I didn’t expect to see were also there, as well as people who said they knew me during my life and bought a ticket because they wanted what I had and knew the ticket would give them that.

 It was very, very, noisy with much joy, weeping, hugging and kissing, and then the park grew quiet. I looked at my mom who stood beside me and I wondered what was happening.

“It’s the King. The King is coming to welcome you into his Kingdom.” She pointed outside of the park.

Following her finger, I saw up on a hill, a majestic palace with light radiating from it which must have been the source of this daylight. It had high walls surrounding it made of jasper and the palace itself was made of pure gold, as pure as glass. The foundations of the palace were made of precious stone and the gates were made of pearl.

Coming out of the main gate, I saw a white horse, and on that horse, a rider. Those who were close to the gate dropped to their knees and bowed, and as the rider got closer to the park, everyone began dropping to their knees. I noticed that he wore a white robe and on that robe was written the words, “King of Kings, and Lord of Lords,” As he entered the park, the crowd began singing the words, exactly as Handel had written them for the Hallelujah Chorus. It wouldn’t have surprised me if Handel was somewhere in the crowd directing it himself.

The King walked his horse to an elevated bandstand, and it climbed a ramp and stood in the center of the stage so that all in the park could see him. It was the Jesus that I had imagined, with long flowing hair which didn’t cover all the scars on his forehead. His hands which held the horse’s reins, were nail scarred, as were his feet which hung from the saddleless horse. He wore a broad smile and his face shone with love. Holding up his right hand, the crowd quieted.

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. Welcome, you have entered the dwelling place of God, the Kingdom of Heaven. There will be no more death, mourning, crying, or pain, and I will wipe away every tear from your eyes, for the old order of things has passed away. To him who is thirsty, I will give you drink from the spring of the water of life. Your names are written in the Lamb’s book of life. Be assured that I will meet you and welcome you personally. Until then, come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom which has been prepared for you since the creation of the world.” (Matt 25:34)

With a long toot from the steam whistle, the Glory train backed slowly from the park for its long journey back to the Crystal River depot, to be in place the next morning for a new group of passengers called to the Kingdom.

So, I, T.L. Bottomsly, began my eternal life in the Kingdom of Heaven. But this was only day one. I had eternity to talk with mom and dad and all my family. They were eager to show me the place the King had prepared for me. I would soon be given a tour of the great Kingdom and told of the Kingdom’s ways. I would at some point be given a job to do, and I would be taken to lectures held by the heroes of the Bible and hear concerts given by performers who shared their God-given gifts here now. Lastly, I would be able to talk with Jesus himself to ask him all the “Why” questions I had on the other side of the tunnel.

And to think, none of this would have been mine, had I not purchased my ticket for the Glory train.

Faith Family Life Getting Older Growing Up Misadventures Music Patriotism Pets or Pests? Snips Tributes

I wake up each morning to face a life which is the result of the choices I have made in the past. Of course, some choices were good, and some were bad, but the result of those choices is what life is today.

What if a man died on a cross?
What would it matter to me?
Maybe not much, people die all the time.
Maybe I’d care if I knew him.

But what if a man died on a cross
What if He did it for me?
Gave up His life so mine might be spared.
That would be different indeed.

It all started when Moses led the Israelite people out of Egypt. After crossing the Red Sea to flee Pharaoh’s soldiers, they stumbled around in the desert for 40 years.

This blog post is my Christian perspective. If you are offended by something like this, please feel free to come back when I post the next satire story.

I am sitting out on my front porch under the hanging bird feeders which I keep filled for the menagerie of wild birds in my yard. The sun is bright and warm on this winter day, and it is very relaxing drinking coffee in my padded wicker chair, while I write my stories.