I don't want to drive up to the pearly gates in a shiny new sports car, wearing beautifully tailored clothes, my hair expertly coiffed, and with long, perfectly manicured fingernails. I want to drive up in a staion 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 weed someone's garden. I want to be there with children's sticky kisses on my cheeks and tears of a friend on my sholder. I want the Lord to know I was really here and that I really lived.
Marjorie Pay Hinkley