{"id":1767,"date":"2018-05-29T20:44:31","date_gmt":"2018-05-30T02:44:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.jeffwofford.com\/?p=1767"},"modified":"2023-11-14T19:51:40","modified_gmt":"2023-11-15T01:51:40","slug":"measures","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.jeffwofford.com\/wp\/?p=1767","title":{"rendered":"Measures"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Here\u2019s how it happened for me.<\/strong> I was sitting in the back seat on the passenger side. I had just asked the driver how long he\u2019d been with Uber, and he said, like he\u2019d answered the question a thousand times, \u201cSix months.\u201d Then I asked how many rides he\u2019d given, and there was a sort of cool pride in his face and I was expecting a big number, when I saw\u2014or really felt\u2014a presence to my right, a buzzing, looming mass. I looked out the window, and there was the wheel of an eighteen-wheeler right beside my door, coming closer. I still don\u2019t know whether it was changing into our lane or we had drifted into its.<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

Everything after that happened in a moment, and yet I remember each moment as if it were a chapter in a book. There was the jostling thrum of rubber on metal. Then a hard jerk back and to the right. Then a terrible crunch, and I saw the ceiling coming down toward me. A loud, low pop. Glass against my face. Then the worst thing of all, the worst thing my body ever knew or would ever know: something struck the top of my head, something utterly disinterested in the presence of my head, then terrible pain. Then I saw, or felt, a flash of light that pulsed rapidly, like the waves of a beach sped up ten thousand times. Everything went silent. I felt myself pushed down toward the seat, straight over, in a way no one can bend, and all the while the whole car was rocking and tumbling.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then it stopped. You know how it is: you must have felt something like it yourself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was standing beside the freeway, looking at the car and the truck, gnarled together, and I thought: how terrible; no one could survive that. Other cars slowed down. Everyone was looking, mouths open, shaking heads.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I thought: how did I get here? I must have been thrown from the car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I kept watching. Cars were stopping. People were getting out. Oh my God, they said. Someone started crying. A man went to the wall, placed his palm against it, and vomited. No one saw me standing there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t need to wave or shout. I knew, somehow, that I had been killed, and that all the waving and shouting in the world would do nothing to catch anyone\u2019s attention.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wondered about my driver. Adrian, I remembered. Adrian was his name. I didn\u2019t see him anywhere. I guess I kind of expected to see his ghost, if that\u2019s what I was, if he were dead. Maybe he was still alive. But from the shape of the car, it didn\u2019t look like possible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But there was someone there. He was standing slightly behind me, to my right. He said, \u201cHi, Ella.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I looked at him. He was an odd little man, about my height. He was wearing the sort of clothes you\u2019d get from a second-hand shop\u2014a faded shirt, jeans that had seen real work, stained boots\u2014though he wore them tidily enough. He looked Mexican, but I didn\u2019t hear an accent either then or later. He was standing politely, just looking at me. His eyes, which were set wide in a rather ugly little face\u2014yes, I see by your laughter you know just what I mean\u2014wore an expression of sadness, and joy, and patience, and peculiar familiarity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHello,\u201d I answered. \u201cWho\u2014? Oh no, were you the truck driver?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, no,\u201d he replied, smiling. \u201cHe\u2019s alive. See?\u201d Sure enough, the driver was climbing down from the cab of the truck, which didn\u2019t look badly damaged. When he reached the ground he stumbled onto his hands and knees, and then he was crying, and rocking forward and backward, and because he was so fat it reminded me of a baby just starting to crawl. O God, what a world it was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen why\u2014\u201d I started to ask the man, but didn\u2019t know how to finish.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He completed the thought. \u201cWhy am I<\/em> here?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019ve come to bring you in.\u201d He spread his hands in a sort of welcome or invitation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t know how to answer this. I turned away and watched the road for a minute, the firemen swarming around the wreck, foaming it down, looking for a way in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I turned toward the little man. \u201cBring me in where? Into heaven?\u201d I felt just a twinge of nervousness\u2014not as much as I would have expected.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He cocked his head on one side in a funny way, and answered, \u201cIf that\u2019s where you want to go, it is open to you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I thought that was a little cryptic, but I didn\u2019t pursue it. \u201cSo are you a ghost, like I am? Or an angel?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He chuckled a little. \u201cA bit of both.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Through all this I felt surprisingly mild. I thought, even at the time, that I should have been wracked with terror, or grief, or anger. I did feel all of those things. And yet there was a cleanness within me already that seemed to sweep away the worst of my fears and shames and rages.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It seemed like only a minute had passed, but now it was getting dark, and the emergency responders were prying open the wreck with a nasty-looking metal claw. Traffic slipped by slowly, like flotsam in a river, and I felt unaccountably embarrassed that I had had some part in making all of these people late.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, angel,\u201d I said at last. \u201cI\u2019m ready to go.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He smiled, and for a moment I couldn\u2019t tell that he had done anything in answer to this. But then in the gloom, by the sweeping lights of passing cars, I saw he had extended his hand. With a nod he hinted I should take it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I didn\u2019t. I was never a very trusting person, as you know. \u201cAre we going to fly or something?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSomething like that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere\u2019s something I\u2019d like to do first, before\u2014before we go to\u2014to heaven.\u201d I was really thinking, but didn\u2019t want to say, \u201cbefore I go to meet God.\u201d That thought really did fill me with something dangerously like fear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He smiled broadly. His eyes were still kind. I had the feeling he\u2019d heard this sort of request before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe can go anywhere you like,\u201d he said. \u201cWe have all the time in the world.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan we see the city?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looked delighted, as if this were something he positively craved to do. \u201cOf course!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I reached for his hand, couldn\u2019t find it in the dark, then felt rough, dry fingers grip mine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All at once we were in the air. There was no sensation of movement, or almost none. No sound of wind in the ears. The earth simply dropped away from us. We didn\u2019t lean forward and spread our arms like they do in Peter Pan or Superman. We were just standing there, hand in hand, like nothing had happened: except that gravity, and inertia, and air, and hot and cold, had forgotten us.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And now it was just before dawn, and the red sunlight cut through the gray streets and houses and trees that stretched out and away on all sides. We kept rising slowly, fifty feet, a hundred feet up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIsn\u2019t it beautiful?\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

People were clambering out from their houses, racing to work. Children with backpacks\u2014or was it backpacks with children?\u2014scampered out to catch buses. A woman with her keys in her mouth spilled coffee on her blouse, and cursed. An old man was sleeping in a rusted car. A boy on a bicycle tumbled off and skinned his elbow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSome of it,\u201d I answered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s all beautiful,\u201d he insisted. \u201cBut it\u2019s not all good. Very little of it is good.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I felt him squeeze my hand tighter, and we were rising rapidly now. A thousand feet, perhaps. Two thousand. Five thousand. I don\u2019t know; I can\u2019t tell these things. But we could see a great deal of the city now, row after row, rank after rank, the rich and the poor, the high and the low. I had seen it before, taking off in an airplane. But this was different. Somehow, now, I could see not only the mass and geometry of the city, but also the small, the particular, the details. Two small children on a doorstep crying. A girl driving, singing loudly to shrill music. A packet of drugs passed hand to hand under a bridge. A woman on her knees, grubbing for weeds. A man striking his girlfriend again and again, and the oddly distracted expression she wore.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan you take me home? I mean to my house?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He smiled again, then turned his head in the direction of my neighborhood, and we slipped over the earth. I saw my suburb, my street, my house.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We were in the living room, no longer holding hands. Jack was there, on the phone. His elbows were on the dining table. There were papers in front of him. His eyes were red. He hadn\u2019t slept. He\u2019d been crying.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tyler and Belle had stayed home from school. Tyler was on the Xbox, looking even more blank and vacant than usual. Belle lay on the sofa, watching Tyler\u2019s game. She was holding her Snoopy dog, that had been my Snoopy dog. Her eyes were red too. She was sucking her thumb. She hadn\u2019t done that in six months.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jack muttered a word or two into the phone, pressed a button, then put it on the table. Immediately his head dropped, his eyes squeezed shut, and a very high sound, almost a whine, came between his teeth. For a minute or two there was silence, but his back pumped up and down in an agony of rhythm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I ached, I wanted so badly to comfort him, and I moved toward him. I wanted to put my arms around him, to show him my face and tell him I was all right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But then I stopped. His lips were moving. He was speaking, silently. And though his throat made no sound, I knew what he said, as plainly as if he had said it aloud. He was praying, his thoughts disjointed and panicked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cGod, I\u2019m so angry. Forgive me for being so angry. How am I going to take care of these children alone? I\u2019m not made for this, Lord. Help me take care of them. Help them grow up okay without\u2014her. I don\u2019t have enough faith. Help me. Help me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat are you thinking, God? This is wrong. You know this is wrong. They\u2019ll be damaged, Lord, forever. We\u2019ll all be damaged.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTake care of her, Lord. I know she\u2019s with you. I hope she is. I hope you are there to receive her. Please receive her. Why couldn\u2019t she stay here? I can\u2019t lose her. I will miss her, Lord. It\u2019s terrible. Terrible. Terrible.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He was clenching his fists, bumping the table, but gently. I looked at Tyler and Belle. They didn\u2019t seem to notice anything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cForgive me, Lord,\u201d he continued. \u201cForgive me for that<\/em>, what I cannot speak. Forgive me. Oh, Lord, there is some relief. There\u2019s a part of me that\u2019s happy, Lord. Forgive me. I always was a coward. Forgive me, Ella. Help me. Forgive me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He muttered on this way in a kind of stupor. Then came a long silence. Some minutes later he said, \u201cAmen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The little Mexican repeated, \u201cAmen.\u201d Then he turned to me. \u201cDo you forgive him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was taken aback. \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHe asked you to forgive him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stared at Jack, who was weeping into his fists. \u201cI forgive him,\u201d I said at last. \u201cCan I talk to him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The little man nodded, and I went to Jack, and put my arms around him. I did not\u2014could not\u2014wrinkle his clothes. But I could feel him beneath my arms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI forgive you, Jack,\u201d I whispered. \u201cI loved you. Still do. You\u2019ll be fine with the kids. God will answer your prayers.\u201d Somehow I knew, as I never before had, I was right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I don\u2019t want to dwell on this part. I held the children, and said good bye. I was sad then.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When we were ready to go, my ghost, or angel, asked, \u201cWhere to now?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUp there, I guess,\u201d and pointed to the sky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He touched my hand, and in a breath we were racing up from the earth, above the clouds, far above the clouds, the earth was a curve cloaked in dark blue, then an orb beneath our feet, and the moon another orb.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan I look for a moment?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We looked, the ghost beside me wearing an expression, somehow, of mixed sadness and delight. There were storms sending telegraphs of purple lightning over Australia. A ribbon of fire burning in Mongolia. Wisps of cloud shredding long between the teeth of the Rockies. And all around and above us were white stars, sharp, and close enough to touch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man turned away and said, \u201cLet us go on.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was the thinnest of whispers, the barest hint of motion, as we passed through a trillion miles in a moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was much darker far from the sun, and yet the brilliant stars were everywhere. The sun was the sister of a family, a point in a constellation that was falling away below us. The constellation was a note in a measure, in a symphony, that was a galaxy that I could have blown and it would turn. The galaxy was one among a hundred, a thousand, each one green or red or purple or orange or blue. One was being eaten away by a pride of black holes, like ravenous lions. Some flickered with pulsing suns in wild rotation, or swirled in the winds of their own bright sighing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A long while later, when I had recovered myself, I asked the ghost why I had died that day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He gave me his wry smile. \u201cBecause your body was crushed in a car,\u201d he answered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I smirked. \u201cYou know what I mean.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes,\u201d he said. \u201cI do. You died for the same reason that everyone dies. The Father declared that this was the best time for it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWith my children so young? With so much of life ahead?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The man sighed. \u201cThere is never a good time for death. And yet it comes to us all. You\u2019re right that your death now will bring hardship and pain that might have been eased if it had come later. But there is good in it happening now, too: great good, as you will see.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI find that hard to believe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At this the man laughed, not cruelly or cynically, but with mirth and something like fondness. \u201cYes, you do. And I can see why. I really can.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just as suddenly, his face straightened, and he fixed me with a gaze as grave as I had ever seen. \u201cThe judgments of God are just and good and true,\u201d he said. \u201cDo you know justice better than God, that you can teach him what would be more just?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, no, of course not, but\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you know goodness better than God?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCertainly not, but\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDo you know what is true better than God?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I answered, but anger smoldered in my heart.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We were still clasping hands, but now I wrenched free.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Immediately we began to drift. He twisted to the left, or I to the right, and we fell back away from each other, between the painted walls of the universe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I heard his voice from below me. \u201cSet yourself aright.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I flailed my arms, tried to twist my body. \u201cI\u2019m trying,\u201d I growled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou\u2019re drifting away,\u201d he said, still calm. \u201cRight yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI can\u2019t!\u201d I shouted, beginning to panic<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen take my hand.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I reached for him but couldn\u2019t turn far enough. Although it was space and I should not have been able to breathe at all, my throat constricted and my breaths came in thick gasps.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHelp!\u201d I cried.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Suddenly he grabbed my wrist. I reached for his arm and took it in both hands.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He spoke, calmly and quietly. \u201cDeath is a grievous thing. And your anger, in a way, does you credit. But don\u2019t presume to judge the one who made all this\u2014\u201d he indicated the rainbow brilliance around us \u201c\u2014and who loves you, and Jack, and Tyler, and Belle, more than you yourself do.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I was trembling, and my breathing slowly eased. Finally I asked, \u201cWill I see them again?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At this he brightened. \u201cYou will.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Eventually I let go of his arm and held his hand simply, though tightly, and for a long time I watched the shimmering galaxies spin slowly in their places. All was perfectly quiet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIf you are a ghost,\u201d I asked, \u201chow did you die?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I seemed to have disturbed him from his thoughts. \u201cAh!\u201d He glanced at me, only a moment. \u201cI was executed!\u201d He sounded almost pleased to say it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat, uh\u2014?\u201d I hesitated, not sure how to ask delicately, or how much I wanted to know. \u201cWhat had you done?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He hesitated a moment, and didn\u2019t look at me when he answered. \u201cYou name it, I was guilty of it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I almost let go of his hand again\u2014he must have felt me lighten my grasp\u2014but thought the better of it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat will happen to me when I meet\u2014you know\u2014?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThe Father?\u201d he offered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou will be judged.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m not sure whether I bit my lip, but I felt like doing so. \u201cI\u2019m not ready.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOh?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m scared.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes.\u201d And then he added, not very helpfully, \u201cSo you should be. \u2018The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.\u2019 Solomon was right.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWill I have to tell? Will I have to confess to\u2014everything?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYour sins are known whether you confess them or not. But yes. \u2018Nothing is concealed that will not be revealed, or hidden that will not be known.\u2019 Everything you said in the dark will be heard by daylight, and what you whispered in the inner rooms will be announced from the rooftops.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I shuddered. \u201cI can\u2019t face it,\u201d I said. \u201cI can\u2019t face\u2014Him.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou will face it. To avoid that meeting is impossible. Yet no one can see God and live.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat will I do?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He seemed to gather his thoughts a moment. \u201cLet me ask you,\u201d he began. Then he turned toward me, and took my other hand as well. There was nothing romantic in this, of course. It was an older brother calling a younger sister to account.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cOn what merit,\u201d he asked, \u201cor for what reason should the Lord accept you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This time I really did bite my lip, and I couldn\u2019t look at him. \u201cI have no merit. I\u2019ve done nothing to deserve anything from God\u2014except condemnation.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\u2019s a good start,\u201d he said, and his smile again was wry. \u201cAnd yet from the moment I saw you beside the road you\u2019ve been calm, for the most part, and mild. You\u2019re afraid, as you should be. And yet confident. Why is that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I saw what he meant, but it took me a moment to form my feelings into words. \u201cBecause I do believe, or trust, or hope anyway, that it\u2019s not really about me. I hope that Jesus will be there. And if he\u2019s there, I will point to him, and I\u2019ll say, \u2018I claim the merit of this man. Judge me as you would judge him, Father. Because if I learned anything in church when I was a girl, it was that he died to put my sins on him, and to put his righteousness on me. Judge me on that basis, if you will, Lord.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cVery well,\u201d he said, and looked thoughtful, or even a little wistful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWill it work?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWill what work?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWill the Lord judge me on that basis, by those rules?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ghost let go my left hand, and turned as if getting ready to move on. \u201cThe Lord judges each person on whatever basis that person chooses. Any rules you like, so long as they are right and fair, he\u2019ll use them.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I couldn\u2019t help laughing. \u201cI doubt that\u2019s the way it works.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou doubt a lot of things,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We began to race through the cosmos, galaxies drifting past like icebergs. For the first time my guide seemed a little put out. He didn\u2019t look at me. \u201cDon\u2019t you remember what the Book says?\u201d he said. \u201c\u2018With the measure you use, it will be measured to you.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI suppose so.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd what do you think it means?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat God judges people by the same standard that they impose on others.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes. And so?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo, if I forgive others, then God will forgive me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTrue. That is a right and fair standard of judgment, and God will use it if you request. Have<\/em> you forgiven others?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI forgave Jack.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut\u2014no. I held a lot of grudges. I didn\u2019t forgive everyone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He nodded. \u201cThat\u2019s the trouble, isn\u2019t it. You can ask God to judge you by whatever standard. And yet for any standard you choose, if it is right and fair, you are bound to have broken it somehow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut\u2014that can\u2019t be the whole answer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt isn\u2019t. Go back to the answer you gave me before. What if you ask to be judged on the merits of the Son of God? Would that be right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSince God gave us the option, it must be right.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cExactly. You\u2019re learning. Would it be fair?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNot exactly. It seems pretty hard on the Son. And yet\u2014it\u2019s fair in that he himself chose to provide it. It would be more unfair to throw away the gift he paid for.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cSo it seems to me. And there you have it. To claim the gift of the Son is to claim a right and fair standard. And can you comply with this standard? Or have you broken it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo, I haven\u2019t broken it. It\u2019s not possible for me to break it, because it doesn\u2019t depend on me at all.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYes. There, you see? You comprehend.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen\u2014\u201d I thought for a moment \u201c\u2014God will see me as being as perfect as the Son is. Is that right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He wore a faint smile of satisfaction. \u201cThat\u2019s right.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a while I asked, \u201cWhat about the Uber driver? Adrian?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The ghost seemed a little troubled by this question. \u201cWhat about him?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIs he here? Will he go to heaven?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He hesitated. \u201c\u2018With the measure you use, it will be measured to you.\u2019 He too will be judged by the standard he demands.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The galaxies slipped past more and more quickly, and the light became more and more blinding, and I squinted and blinked and my eyes streamed with tears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Somehow we came to the end of the universe, though I don\u2019t suppose that\u2019s really possible in the ordinary way of things. And then I was here, in the heaven beyond heavens.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And you all were here, Jack, and you, Tyler, and Belle, which surprised me at first, until I realized that time doesn\u2019t work here as it does there.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The little man said goodbye, and turned to go, and waved. Then I saw something I hadn\u2019t seen before, something about the hands I\u2019d been holding all that time. They were wounded. And I asked him who he was. He answered, \u201cI Am That I Am,\u201d and then I knew what I\u2019d known all along. I ran after him and stopped him and clung to him. I asked, \u201cWhat about the Judgment?\u201d and he answered, \u201cYou see all these people, millions upon millions, of every nation and language on earth, streaming toward the city, toward the Throne? Walk with them. Stand at the Judgment. Face the Judge. But in truth you have already been judged, since before the creation of the world, and your name has been found in the Book of Life. Come and enter into the joy of your Lord. You will shine like the sun in the kingdom of your Father.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Before he left I asked, why did he come to \u201cbring me in\u201d from the earth, when he could have sent someone else? And he answered, \u201cHow could I have sent anyone else to greet my daughter? I wanted to welcome you myself.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But you\u2019ve heard all this a thousand times, and you know it better than I do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n\n\n\n

The young woman in the back seat<\/strong> is cheerful, beautiful. She is asking me about Uber, looking at me through the rear-view mirror, those fetching eyes. Suddenly I realize that the truck on our right is drifting into our lane. I try to slow down, to pull away, but it is too late. Something rattles. We are tugged backward, then to the right. I see the belly of the truck scraping toward me across the hood of the car. I wrench the wheel to the left, but nothing changes. There is a low pop, and glass. A shattering pain. Blackness.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The blackness lasts an age, though it is a millisecond.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I move through it, stumbling and crawling. There are roots and vines. Something slithers over my bare knuckles, but I am unafraid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Light dawns, a green light from above, filtering down through an unbroken canopy of leaves. It is a jungle, teeming with Life. The bark of a huge tree seethes with beetles and centipedes. A cougar tears the throat from a fawn. Tamarins swing above me, then mate feverishly on the branches. Their children are born, beautiful and squirming, except one, and the father devours it. High above, a sparrow watches the stars to fly true north. Below my feet, the miniature sculpted caverns of ten thousand colonies of ants shiver with industry.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I am filled with awe and wonder and with a thrill almost of worship at the majesty and complexity and brutality of it all. I think, \u201cSo it is as I suspected. At heart, all of reality is bare Life, and contest, and survival. It is glorious.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The living vision congeals in my mind. The creatures in all their activity twist and connect, until before my eyes they form a face. It is long and striated, beautiful and terrible, ever-changing, shifting and writhing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAll is lost,\u201d it says. It is a woman\u2019s voice, but as low as a tremor of the earth. It penetrates and surrounds me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWho are you?\u201d I ask, still unafraid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI am Nature,\u201d she answers. As she speaks, the seal pups that form her lips fall into the vacuum of her mouth and are replaced by a sleeping python.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAm I still alive, or dead?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou are dead,\u201d she answers. \u201cYou are the last spark of a dying brain.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I knew it already, and yet somehow I am wracked with grief. I begin to sob. \u201cWhat will happen to me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201c\u2018Me?\u2019\u201d she answers coldly. “There is no \u2018me.\u2019 There was a chemical reaction, effervescing in a vapor of momentary consciousness. Now it is spent.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I collect myself, and nod slowly. \u201cAt least I will be remembered.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She laughs, and it is the sound of thunder echoing amid mountain peaks. \u201cThere is no memory. The brains of your children will record the impressions that your body produced on their perceptions. Your grandchildren will know only your name. Your great-grandchildren will forget you utterly. The generations flow, one from another, surviving only, forgetful of the useless dead. All memory is lost.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There is something about this answer that offends me. \u201cBut I played my part, didn\u2019t I? I perpetuated the human race. I joined in the dance of Life.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The python forms a sneer. \u201cThere is no dance.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut you\u2014 all of Nature\u2014 it is the Glory of Life, the Grand Game, the Everlasting Struggle. And I have been part of it.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her reply comes as a whisper like the rush of a mountain river. \u201cIn ten thousand years the last human will die. In a hundred million years, the last life on earth will boil away under a massing sun. The universe itself is in aching mid-life: a few billion years and the stars will cool, all skies will darken, and all Nature will dissolve into a cold, changeless dust. There is no Game.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBut at least\u2014at least I will have lived. At least we all\u2014we will have Lived.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNo one will remember,\u201d she says, with a lion\u2019s groan and a whale\u2019s sorrowing song. \u201cThere will have been nothing. Every pain, every pleasure, every joy, every fear, every symphony, every word will pass into nothingness upon nothingness. Vapor of vapor, all is vapor. There is no dance. There is no memory. All is lost.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stand still, watching the roots growing and tangling at my feet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThen it is better to meet oblivion head on.\u201d I sigh, and feel something like peace, or resignation. \u201cI am ready to die.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou are already dead,\u201d she whispers. \u201cAnd I must glut myself, gnats and worms, on the bread of your body, the wine of your blood. Come, enter into the perfect sleep of Entropy. Come and be fed. Be fed to the all-consuming nothingness.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Her mouth yawns, a swirling, dripping emptiness, and I am drawn inside, not unwillingly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The vibrancy of green fades, and the ripple of living things quiets and becomes still. I walk a rolling path over barren hills, but there is no sky, only void. There is the torment of obliteration, a licking black fire, but I cannot fix my mind on it. The path becomes smooth, descending, a gray, dull channel. I work to recall my wife, my family, but nothing comes. All is silent. I am utterly alone. All of this is a millisecond, yet it lasts age upon age, age upon age. I am consumed by fire and worm.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the silence I say, \u201cAdrian,\u201d my name, but it does not attach to me. It is mere sound: a tone and a click and a turn and a narrowing. \u201cAdrian,\u201d I say. \u201cAyd\u2014 ay\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I work the sound, but my voice is crushed by the voice of Nature, intoning her benediction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

VAPOR OF VAPOR,  ALL IS VAPOR. V  OR OF  APOR, AL   S VAP R. VAPOR  F   POR,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

 AL IS V PO     P    F  APOR  A        POR. VAPOR O     O ,  LL      P    VA O     V<\/p>\n\n\n\n

,     I         VAP R O   APOR   LL IS VAPOR     OR OF VAPOR       S    OR<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A              ALL I   AP R.  APOR OF VA OR, ALL     AP R.  APOR OF  AP R,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I   A            F V PO , ALL I   APOR.  APOR OF VAPOR  ALL  S  APP    A    O  V<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A     A    S V  OZ    POR O     O , ALL IS V   R. V PO  6      R    L    VA O .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

V     O   A         I   APO .    OR O   APOR  A L IS VAP  .   PO  OF V P    A<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A OR. V         A 1R    L     A   . 0AP       A OR    L  S V   R. V POR<\/p>\n\n\n\n

^ NA   IS V POR.   PO   F VA OB  ALL IS V   -. VA O{  F VAPO ,  H   S  A   .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

V   R O   A O    3  I       .  A OR O  VAP R, A   I         V P R            L<\/p>\n\n\n\n

S    O            V    ,  L  I   A   . VA O  O    P R    I I          W     F V<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\\      L     A        2      AP     LL I    P  .     R            LL I\\<\/p>\n\n\n\n

R                      R}   P      VA{        I    P              A O<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A    OF      P     I       .   $ORS   V PO   A N       4 .    O<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A              AD        PO   AL  I\\ V P       OR    & P               G<\/p>\n\n\n\n

ST =         R  F RA_ R  K   I  V     =<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A           R     Z     P 1  V  O    1 A  R              .<\/p>\n\n\n\n

5 P L6IS  A  R    P  0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I   A   .     R  F   P^R,  L  I<\/p>\n\n\n\n

L      A    2  P   O  $<\/p>\n\n\n\n

F     R       O   P<\/p>\n\n\n\n

_     \\   AL<\/p>\n\n\n\n

V Q<\/p>\n\n\n\n

^<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Here\u2019s how it happened for me. I was sitting in the back seat on the passenger side. I had just asked the driver how long he\u2019d been with Uber, and he said, like he\u2019d answered the question a thousand times, \u201cSix months.\u201d Then I asked how many rides he\u2019d given, and there was a sort … <\/p>\n

Continue reading “Measures”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[5,11,54],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1767","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-faith","category-fiction","category-philosophy"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jeffwofford.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1767","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jeffwofford.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jeffwofford.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jeffwofford.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jeffwofford.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1767"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/www.jeffwofford.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1767\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2129,"href":"https:\/\/www.jeffwofford.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1767\/revisions\/2129"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jeffwofford.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1767"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jeffwofford.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1767"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jeffwofford.com\/wp\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1767"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}