Keep Your Fork

[You don't have to believe in heaven to appreciate this story. And don't worry about my mental state: it's Sunday now, but tomorrow I will go back to being a Virtuous Pagan]

There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things n order, she contacted her pastor and asked him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes. She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in. Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the young woman said: "There's one more thing. This is very important. I want to be buried with a fork in my hand."

The pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say. Then the young woman explained. "In all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork'. It was my favourite part because I knew that something better was coming, like chocolate cake or apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance! So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder "What's with the fork?" Then I want you to tell them: "Keep your fork, the best is yet to come."
The pastor knew this would probably be the last time he would see the young woman before her death. But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did.