Tonight I will go to the funeral home and I will stand in line and I will offer my condolences to the grieving family and I will attempt to pay my respects to a lady I loved and cared about. Perhaps I will tell the family of my last memory of their loved one, a conversation she and I had over punch and finger foods at a bridal tea, a conversation in which she told me yet again that she prayed for me, daily, still.
As I give hugs and express my sorrow for the family’s loss, for all of ours, I will ponder the legacy of this servant of the Lord. I will remember the years she taught young girls in Sunday School and the investment she made in their lives and hearts. I will think of her challenging my husband to a ping pong duel, she many years into her senior adult status! I will remember her question to me about the efficacy of Jesus’ blood at some other bridal tea, many years ago. I will be thankful for her long life and her faith and I will rejoice that her hope is now reality and that she now lives in the glorious Presence of the Savior she loved.
Morbid it may be, but I will also think of my own dying. Will I be young? Or old? As friends and family pay their respects and gaze on my earthly remains, what will they have to say? As others reflect on my life, the good, the bad and the ugly, how will I be remembered? What will my legacy be? One of faith? Or, God forbid, futility? These thoughts both sober and worry me. No one knows the day or the hour, the Bible tells me; I must wonder, am I redeeming the time?
Many of these same thoughts are echoed in a post I wrote a few years ago after watching a documentary on, of all things, Princess Diana’s dresses. After musing over such a strange legacy, I make the following observations…
If I could choose my legacy, what would I choose? How would I hope to be remembered? What mark do I want to leave?
While sometimes I act as if the most critical legacy I could leave is something as trivial as dresses or dolls, it is my sincere desire when I pass from this world to the next that others could look back on my life here and say:That girl loved Jesus with everything in her.
He was her passion, her joy, her life.
Now may I live like it.
Yes, Lord. Let it be.