If Heaven had a top on it, We, you and I, the One of Us, would be sitting at the height of Heaven. As it is, there is no roof on Heaven. We could say there is the Height of Love or, perhaps, We sit on the Peak of Heaven, and, naturally, all is well. We are undoubtedly established in Heaven, which has no confines. There are no borders in Heaven. No exclusions. I will simply not have anyone excluded. No one is kept out. This is not My way. This is not My desire.

Beloved, I offer a full-service Heaven. This is the way I like it. No notary has to sign a petition nor attest to it.

Do you see how a Heavenletter can begin? It begins with a phrase or a sentence and then another phrase or sentence ventures in, and, before you know it, more words pop in and somehow adhere and bring more.

This reminds Me of a how a puppy dog grows - a little at the tail and a little at the nose.

It is all natural. Godwriting grows the same way a flower grows. This is the same way seeds fall to nourish the Earth or to multiply the evidence of life on Earth. What does not grow simply with a little here and a little there?

We can say - of course - We can say anything We happen to say. Who carves a statue? Wherein is a sculpture sculpted?

How is a play written? How is a program for a play written?

From where cometh a song, a song sung from the heart arranged according to a heartbeat?

What a beautiful parapet is life as it makes itself viable. Something of life is also visible, and some things of life are not visible. They do not have to be. It's clear by now that nothing has to be observed close up. Far away is also free and clear. Clear or unclear, sung or not in one tone or another, life itself is something to mention, yet from where and to where?

Was life made as a puzzle with decision, or was life simply found on the beach, washed up on the shore along with seaweed and gemstones from a faraway source yet to be noted? From where cometh life and to where does it flow?

Meaning to life has been requested or required and sought, and the meaning of life attributes itself to modern-day heroes. Are you a hero? Perhaps you wrote yourself in as a dinner menu or a shopping list on the spur of the moment.

Are the menus written ahead of time, and can they be written in sand? What remains at the beach hither and yon? And what do the contents of the seashore have to do with you or anything, and why do you ask?

We can play volleyball. What is the point of this? It appears that you are footsteps based on sand. Where does that leave you, and who asks you?

Is life a court that is to come to order or to be left to disorder and at whose request, and who inquires, and who decides and whatever for?

Does a day go by like a canoe ride on a stream? Who says so? Must something be mentioned before it exists, or what? What is known? And what is not known, and by whose decree?

Is there a parade today? What about a marching band? Who names today? Has today been celebrated, and what about tomorrow? Is life but an unending parade?

Of what is spirit made? It is enough that spirit exists and that We all do, too, isn't it?

Life is made of a little fancy. And why not?

I hear you cry out that life on Earth is unbelievable. That it is absurd. It is ridiculous. It is unexpected. It is rote. It stays the same. It never stays the same. It always surprises you unless you happen to be feeling ho-hum about life.

Yes, you do wonder whose life this is you are living anyway and what on Earth it amounts to. You hardly feel like a voyager on the high seas - more like a stowaway or possibly someone who has hacked a random identity; therefore, you are such a good interloper that you don't exactly know who you are or will be the next time you check in. For lack of enough reliable information to base yourself on, you feel up in the air.

You do know that I insist you have purpose. That's well and good so far as you are concerned, if only you could have a sighting of your purpose.

Beloved, if I say you have a purpose or two, you can know you do. It isn't a given that you have to search for your purpose or purposes. You were born with them. They will find you. Meanwhile, you can know what you generally tend to like to do.

Perhaps you have considered that your purpose in life is to find your purpose in life. No, dear one, you don't have to be on a shopping spree for your purpose. You don't have to track down the purpose of your life. Your specific ideal purpose may not show up surrounded with stars and sirens blazing, yet your purpose will show up of its own accord some day, yet not necessarily with a big title "MY PURPOSES" in magic marker and underlined. You may be surprised, or you may not be surprised at all, or you may not quite recognize your purpose.

This you can know: Your life serves. Purpose could be too specific a word for you to apply. You may expect your Earth purpose to appear lighted up. I say that you won't be able to miss your purpose if you tried. Regardless of your catching onto your purpose or not, you have a purpose or two. Your purpose may not be up and running as yet, or your purpose may still be up your sleeve.

Often you recognize your purpose in retrospect. Or, you may have always known. Or the specificity of your purpose has not as yet dawned on you.

Perhaps you knew you were going to become some kind of writer and teacher. Yet it never occurred to you that one day you would become a spiritual writer and teacher, and that you wouldn't be able to refuse.

The choice had been made long before you knew about it. You were sitting in a certain chair. Possibly an unseen hand had simply lifted you up and plopped you into that chair. The deed was done without your agreement, yet it was done all right.

When Lana Turner walked into a coffee shop, she may well not have realized in the moment that when a movie mogul spoke to her, she was meant to become a movie star - or maybe she did. In any case, she did find out soon enough, and she did indeed become a movie star.

And you, too, will find out about yourself. Your purpose isn't against your will. If your family perhaps insists that you take over the family business, this doesn't have to mean it's your purpose. Of course, you also might find out that you like the work.

All right then, life may not be as simple as you would like. Your path can be roundabout. Or it can be sudden and firm as if out of nowhere.

Beloved, you desire Me and inner peace with all your might. Yet, again and again, you find yourself sheathed in tension, you, dear one, who calls out for peace. You would give anything for the peace of God. It doesn’t seem to matter how much you desire and defend peace. You cry out that you may have somehow chased the peace of Oneness away, yet how can it be that you could put your hand in Mine and alight on separateness? I bless your hand.

You may say to yourself often enough:

“What on Earth is the matter with me? I desire the Peace of God, yet why do I not receive Your Peace? I seek You, God, and You alone. I want You, God. It's You I crave.”

“If loneliness from You is something I bring on myself, what do I do to others? What rashes within others do I bring to the surface and not to myself alone?”

“Beloved God, God of My Heart, I rush to You and call out to You, and then, what? Do I give up and give myself over to that which I do not want at all?”

“God, is it possible that You leave me outside the Kingdom with the intention that I will find my way back?”

“Oh, yes, God, I can hear You say that it can only be I, myself, who leaves me sitting outside the Kingdom. Or, would You say that I am truly within the Kingdom, and that I am blind and do not see?”

“‘God, open my eyes wide so that I can see. I beg You. I lie down before You, asking You to help me see, once and for all, the Glory that You give, and that yet, I still do not see.”

“I know I am better off knowing about the Glory You give than not knowing about it. I am grateful to know Your Glory exists. I plead to You for You and for the peace you give, yet I seem not to keep You for later. How can this be? It cannot be. It cannot be, even as it seems to be real to me in the wilderness where I seem to cloak myself.”

“Where do I belong if not with You? You gave me the Earth to multiply in, yet it seems to be my grief and sorrow that I multiply as I seek You and nothing but You, dear God, simply You.”

“God, how can I be without You? I know better. I crave You, God, simply You. How can it be that I wear clothes for mourning when I may be walking in the Sunshine with You, God, happily, with You right by my side?”

“Beloved God, an inch away from You is too far away. I am too long a-waiting. God, dear God, if I am truly alive with You in My Heart, how can it be I feel desolate and far away from You? I have promised myself You, and You have promised me You. Will You tell me that I, as much as everyone else, serve You? Give me You, God, and no less than You.

“Yes, God, please beckon me to You, once and for all.”

Yes, Beloved, I enclose you in My arms of love. Hear Me whisper My Troth of Love to you. Hear Me. Hear Me whisper:

“Beloved, come a little closer, Friend of My Heart, one step at a time, and you will know nothing but My Presence deep in your heart – Our One Heart where you and I reside on Earth as it is in Heaven. We are One Heart, and My Voice, deeper than hearing, is established deeply in your heart forever and forever. Here I AM, and here you are, Beloved.

Beloved Sojourner on Earth, do you feel something is missing in your day to day life, or perhaps something is blocked? You might desire a pause from life. You do not know exactly what happened or didn't happen to you.

If you could go to a deserted island for even a weekend and get away from it all or perhaps to a rustic cabin in the woods, off to the side of life and let your life figure itself out without interference from you, this would ease your heart. If there were a way to loosen your grip on life, you would gladly. You would paddle your own canoe or your own little kayak, so you fantasize.

There are times when it feels like it's too much for you to keep trying to catch up to life. It's like when somehow you fall behind in keeping up with the dishes - you don't even know how it happened, yet somehow you fell behind, and now you have to work hard at getting caught back up.

Or maybe it's like being lost in the dark woods. Somehow you lost yourself somewhere, and you can't seem to find your bearings. You keep searching, yet you seem to be somewhere else. Sometimes you just want to find which bus stop is yours now. You were never cool with which way is north or south or left or right or up and down or backwards or forwards.

Geometry was never your forteˊ. Somehow algebra feels more comfortable, not that you didn't abandon algebra long ago. Poetry seems more true to you now and less like the sands of time sifting through your fingers.

If you remembered how, you would do some somersaults. Somersaulting is how you would like to move forward, one somersault after another lickety-split, or, better yet, swim across the nearest ocean and be on your way to another shore and another language that you would not be expected to understand just like that.

What music would you follow, and where would the music lead you to and from where?

Oh, yes, you are looking for your moorings.

You may have a parking ticket missing somewhere. You yearn to be away from traffic concerns. You are nowhere. You're not supposed to know upstream or downstream or midstream either, for that matter.

Well, Beloved, you who want to be picked up with certainty and to also find the yellow-brick road by yourself, may I suggest that you watch some Fred Astaire movies and regain familiarity with dancing the light fantastic. Go out and buy some shiny black tap shoes and tap them on the bare wood floors and listen to the tapping sounds you make. Your tapping could be Morse code that represents yourself as you imagine yourself tapping your way across an ice rink until summer, when, by then, you might know how to tap-dance on water and on into the sky without batting an eye, and so sideways tap yourself around and discover the beat of your heart and write it down in a little notebook.

Perhaps you would like to live today as it shows up and not plan it, yet rather simply live today the way a Heavenletter rises as its own fountain at its own pace as you welcome life profusely, not because of what life has to offer you, but for what life happens to be as it dances along. Perhaps today sashays around you and on up the stairs and reveals itself multi-angled in rosy light. Your life taps up and down a graceful flight of a curved stairway to Heaven, as if the platform of your life were trilling piano keys, simply tapping up and down the sunny side of the street. Heaven surely awaits you.