“Any word,” answered St. Peter. “It’s your choice.”

The woman promptly replied,

“Then the word I will spell is love. L-o-v-e.”

St. Peter congratulated her on her good fortune to have made it to Heaven and asked her if she would mind taking his place at the gates for a few minutes while he took a break.

“I’d be honoured,” she said, “but what should I do if someone comes while you are gone?”

St. Peter reassured her and instructed the woman simply have any newcomers to the Pearly Gates to spell a word as she had done.

So the woman is left sitting in St. Peter’s chair and watching the beautiful angels soaring around her, when low and behold, a man approaches the gates, and she

realizes it is her husband.

“What happened?” she cried,

“Why are you here?”

Her husband stared at her for a moment, then said,

“I was so upset when I left your funeral, I was in an accident. And now I am here? Did I really make it to Heaven?”

To which the woman replied, “Not yet.

You must spell a word first.”

“What word?” he asked.

The woman responded, “Czechoslovakia