Every, now and then, my twisted mind pops out this question: Is there room left in heaven?

Now I’m going to be presumptuous here and think that despite the wrongs I’ve done in my life, I will have a decent chance to stand in front of the pearly gates when my time is up on earth. Yet, I have this fear of seeing a no vacancy sign hung on the gate when I get there. 

Hear me out for a second. The Population Reference Bureau reports that by 2050, 113 billion people will have lived and died. That isn’t counting the more than 7.5 billion people who are projected to be alive that year. That means there are 15 dead people to every one living person, which quite possibly means I’ll take the trip upstairs to a heaven overload.

That’s not counting the number of dogs (because all dogs go to heaven), other animals, insects, flowers and trees. I mean, everything alive dies. Who’s to say that the first thing I see when I walk past the gate won’t be a Tyrannosaurus rex?

Now for those who believe it’s not about physical beings squeezing themselves on every inch of every cloud because we somehow vaporize into little bitty spirits, that causes another problem. Shouldn’t we see the faces of our loving departed when we arrive in paradise? Imagine you’re looking for your mother and a tiny voice stuck inside a microscopic dot whispers, “I’m over here!”

I wonder where we get to hang out after we get through heaven’s admissions process, which I hope isn’t like wasting half a day at the motor vehicle agency. I envision a place called the Afterlife Mall—a string of storefronts that represent what we worshipped or didn’t worship while we were still living. There’s the Catholic Center, the Protestant Place, the Jewish Joint and the Muslim Mecca to name a few. Down the way is the All Souls Store and one with a marquee, Universal God. I think there will be an Atheist Information Desk in heaven, too. Pope John once admitted that even if you don’t believe in God, but you do his work in the world, you’ll still get to go there.

But there’s no end to heaven, people say. It’s infinite, we think. Did anyone talk with an eyewitness who can confirm this? 

Science says the universe is over 26 billion years old. Its length has been calculated at 94 billion lightyears. If this is true, then the universe has a finite length. So why shouldn’t we think heaven might have a beginning and an end too? After all, the population up there keeps growing, and with everyone having eternal life, it must get pretty darn crowded.

Imagine one day I go fishing at a lake in heaven. I see one small spot that’s open, like the only space left in a crowded parking lot. I jump in and now I’m elbow to elbow with Muhammad Ali on my left and Billy Graham on my right. Ali casts his line and it tangles with mine. He gives me a stern look and pushes me into Mr. Graham.

“What the hell are you doing?” I shout to the former heavyweight champion. 

He stares at me and pulls on his line again.

“My son, there’s no speaking that word here,” says Graham. “It’s okay to say, ‘For heaven’s sake,’ but please do not speak that other H word.”

Frustrated, I cut off the end of my line and move on. There’s another opening at the far end of the lake between the Kennedy brothers but I’m going to pass. Never get between siblings, especially one who was a president and the other who wanted to be.

Someone tells me Elvis Presley is having a concert just above the Milky Way. I ask what time and George Carlin says, “Time? There’s no time in heaven. Whenever you get there, he’ll be singing his greatest hits.”

“How did you get up here?” I ask him. “You never believed.”

“Jesus greeted me at the Atheist Information Desk. Do I need to say more?” he replies.

I decide to take a further look around. I come across a stage where John Wilkes Booth is performing in a play. 

“What’s with him being up here?” I ask a woman who looks like Princess Diana.

“It’s that forgiveness thing,” she says. “Look over there to see who’s watching the murderer act in the play.”

I look to where she’s pointing and I see Abraham Lincoln smiling and clapping his hands. Talk about the power of forgiveness!

I see people everywhere in heaven, but I don’t like crowds. I find a tree where no one’s in sight and take a seat. 

“There are 12 gates and seven levels of heaven, my son,” says a booming voice behind me. I turn and look, but there’s nobody there. “There is plenty of room for everyone and that includes you.”

“Is that you, God?”

“Yes, my son.”

Suddenly I feel the urge to go to the bathroom. I look across a cloud and see a line of people waiting to use the porta-potty. A guy walks by and hands me a diaper he pulled from a box he’s carrying. 

“They come in handy up here when the lines get too long,” he says. “By the way, you’d better hurry to the buffet line before the 18,000 cavemen get there. It’s steak night and they run out of food early.”