In heaven’s realm, the small and grand,
made perfect by the Savior’s grace,
their soul’s deliverance at hand,
together gathered in one place,

in joy assembled to receive
their perfect frame restored from dust,
the first fruits from the grave set free,
the resurrection of the just.

I searched for friends, for those whom by
their countenance I might know well.
One bright among them caught my eye,
though who she was I could not tell.

But as she glad returned my stare,
the light within her smiling eyes
acknowledging my puzzled glare
and comprehending my surprise

confirmed that we had met before,
that on the earth she’d been my peer;
and as I pondered all the more,
a trumpet sounded sharp and clear.

In families, separate multitudes,
they formed their casual columns fast.
They chose their order without words:
all knew their place, from first to last.

And at the front, at heaven’s gate,
of all God’s spirit children fair,
stood those who in their first estate
had proven to the council there

that life for them would be no test.
Their mission while upon the earth
would be much different than the rest.
Their needs were satisfied at birth.

These chosen few, these special some,
their minds defective, bodies flawed,
they would instead the means become
to help bring other souls to God.

And those who in their mortal state
were called to give them loving care,
those foreordained to consecrate
their sacrifice, were also there.

These mothers, fathers, siblings too,
had not God destined so to bless,
without this special work to do
may not have passed their mortal test.

They see now from behind the veil
God’s wisdom in the cross they bore.
The meek and humble never fail
to mercy find at heaven’s door.

I quickly solved my mystery;
for who she was I now could tell.
As families gathered, I could see
her parents. Yes, I knew them well.

All sang their gratitude to God.
Though all had reason to be glad,
the fullest hearts and smiles most broad
were those of Jenny’s mom and dad

as they beheld in wondrous awe
her spirit and her flesh made whole,
at last united without flaw,
her perfect resurrected soul.

Then in a twinkling of an eye,
they joined the resurrected race,
so they could be the first to cry,
to weep with joy in her embrace.

In heaven’s realm, the small and grand,
their perfect frame restored from dust,
eternal families hand in hand,
the resurrection of the just.

I love to read Joseph F. Smith’s vision of the Spirit World. In addition to the detailed doctrinal truths it teaches us about that important step in our post-mortal existence, I also find welcome and comforting reassurance that the relationships we establish here on earth will continue there and into the eternities. Though we all look forward in faith to that realm, surely some of us anticipate it much more deeply than do most. Anyone who has suffered, or who has a loved one who has suffered, physical or mental disabilities surely has even greater reason to look forward to the day when, without exception, the blind shall see, the deaf hear, and the lame made whole. I am thinking especially of those who have been chosen to lovingly care for sons and daughters and other family members who in this life are severely limited mentally and/or physically.

We are told that we will look upon our spirits’ separation from our bodies as a bondage, but I can’t help but think that in some cases, the opposite will be true. I have had the wonderful example in my own ward of two such families. They have my greatest respect and admiration. I marvel at their capacity to love and the faith and humility with which they face the task God has given them. While pondering that example, and with Joseph F. Smith’s experience as my model, I one day imagined my own vision of another step in our post-mortal progression: the resurrection. I dedicate the poem that came out of that pondering to my good friends, Brother and Sister Petersen and their daughter Jenny, and to others who, like them, look forward in faith to a joyous reunion in heaven’s realm.