“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.” — Marjorie Pay
Hinckley
