"I Really Lived"-by Marjorie Pay Hinckley

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 grass stains
on my shoes from mowing
Sister Schenk's lawn.

I want to be there with a smudge of
peanut butter on my shirt from making
sandwiches for a sick neighbor's 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!