Marjorie Pay Hinckley said: “I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny sports car, wearing beautifully, tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails.
I want to drive up in a station wagon that has mud on the wheels from taking kids to scout camp.
I want to be there with a smudge of peanut butter on my shirt from making sandwiches for a sick neighbors children.
I want to be there with a little dirt under my fingernails from helping to weed someone's garden.
I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and the tears of a friend on my shoulder.
I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.”
There’s something beautiful about a life that shows its wear. A dirty car, food on your clothes, dirt under your fingernails, these aren’t signs of neglect but evidence of love. They tell the story of someone who showed up for others, someone who didn’t just pass through life but planted seeds along the way.
Marjorie Pay Hinckley’s words remind me that heaven doesn’t measure us by polish, but by purpose. The Lord isn’t looking for perfect hair or manicured nails. He’s looking for hearts that have been broken and offered, shoulders that have carried burdens, and hands that have lifted others.
I want to arrive with a trail of fingerprints on the lives I’ve touched. I want the Lord to see the smudges and stains and know they came from loving well, from making meals, wiping tears, pulling weeds of all kinds, and holding the hands of those who walked beside me.
This kind of living isn’t glamorous. It looks like camping and working in the soil. It looks like sticky kisses and quiet prayers. But it feels like heaven. And I want to live this way with humility and open arms so I can bring a little heaven closer to earth.
What I would choose for myself might be easier or sweeter, but if choosing the “station wagon way” helps me become more like my Savior Jesus Christ, then I’ll do my best to keep that station wagon running. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived. Mortality is hard to navigate with a happy heart, but I’m trying always to show up.
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