Legacy
We hear preachers preach on it all the time. The countless sermon illustrations demonstrating the legacy someone has left behind are almost too numerous to count, but there is a reason these stories are told so often; we all need an example to follow.
Recently, Curt and I have been going through our "stuff." Everyone has stuff, some of us more than others, but our stuff has gotten to the point that it has taken over our lives. The last two moves have made it impossible to have stuff and utilize the limited living space we have.
In other words, goodbye stuff.
We have no basement for storage, so everything has been piled into our garage. Boxes, tubs and shelving units, all full of items we thought we needed. It seemed to be an insurmountable task, but I was ready to take it on. In hindsight, I wasn't quite prepared emotionally for what was before me.
When my dad died, we were faced with cleaning out his apartment in a short amount of time. It was a time of healing for my sisters and I, but also extremely hard. We were so young even though two of us were adults, but we had never had to deal with death before, especially on such a personal level. We had no idea what we were doing. We entered Dad's apartment, armed with garbage bags, tubs & nowhere near enough Kleenex.
When all was said and done, I had tubs upon tubs of Dad's belongings. Things we didn't think we could part with. Those tubs have been with me since 2001; 14 years of storage. They have been moved to 5 different houses and only opened before and after each move in order to know what was lurking inside. I never could bring myself to go through them.
This week, that all changed.
As I opened the first couple of tubs I had to shake my head. I don't know what we were thinking, but the items inside were far from the sentimental keepsakes I had hoped to pass on to my kids. Used Kleenex, scrap paper, old gauze bandages (not used, thankfully), cords to electronic devices that have been gone for years and other odds and ends. THIS is what I had been storing and saving for years?! The garbage bags became more and more full and empty tubs from our past littered the driveway and garage.
Some items brought tears, some brought chuckles, most brought sighs of slight annoyance. I was making pretty good time going through the tubs, tossing papers from Emily's Kindergarten years and making piles of items to donate to our local second hand store, until I came upon a box of old papers, bills, and receipts.
This box was different than the ones I had looked at with a smile and joyful tear. Inside I wouldn't find a love note from Emily or Gabe's scribbles on old refrigerator art. This box was from a time period that I have long put behind me. In many ways I had blocked it from my memory.
The first paper I picked up was the divorce decree for my parents. Ouch. Following it were child support payment receipts, a record of which weeks were paid, which weeks weren't, bills walking me through almost every day after my dad's accident, legal documents showing he no longer had to pay child support, legal documents showing Uncle Ronnie as his Power of Attorney and then bill after bill after bill of his every day living from then until his death in 2001.
It was hard. I relived the pain of abandonment as I read the visitation scheduled my dad had, knowing he never, not a single time, came for us. I relived the difficulties my mom had as she struggled to raise the three of us without financial support. I relived the years I was responsible for babysitting my two younger sisters because there were no other options. I could feel the bitterness rising up, something I thought I had defeated years ago, but there it was, beginning a slow burn in my heart.
I sat there crying. Our youngest children couldn't understand why I had so many tears and my husband had no idea how to comfort me. My emotions were totally out of control and the anger with which I began throwing papers into the trash bag were completely unchecked.
It was at this moment that I came across a check registry.
As I opened the booklet, I wasn't sure what to expect. I had worked myself up to a pretty good level of hurt and that numb feeling was beginning to take root. As I read the entries, I could feel that shell of hardness begin to melt and it was replaced with that warm feeling of security. As I turned the pages, the painful memories of my teens and early twenties were replaced with the remembrance of who my dad was the years before he died.
He was a man after the heart of God.
He belonged to Jesus.
He was a child of the King.
He was a brand new creation.
What does a check registry have to do with all this? Let me show you.
Page after page of the same entries, for years. Years of giving. Every month without fail, he gave to his church and other ministries that had a special place in his heart. More than 20% of his income, which was limited due to disability, went to others.
Every. Single. Month. Without skipping, with complete regularity.
When his Social Security went up with the cost of living, so did the amount he gave away, without fail.
My dad didn't live with extravagance, but he lived with purpose. Even at the end of his life when others would have given up. He was confined to a wheelchair, a quadriplegic, yet continued to think outside of himself towards others in need.
He had accepted the forgiveness and grace that our God offers through Jesus Christ and had started new.
And I, in all my superior ways, had never let him really start fresh with me. I never truly forgave him for the mistakes, and they were numerous, he made with his family during tough times.
I live with those regrets. I live knowing that my dad never heard the words, "I forgive you" from my lips. I live..........
Oh, to turn back time.
I gently closed the check registry as tears slipped down my checks, my chin, and to the floor. My dad had left me far more than I had ever given him. And he had just left me a final lesson in life.
Forgive? Yes and often.
Love? Fully. Hold nothing back.
Let nothing go unsaid.
Live outside of yourself and know that the decisions you make today will affect others tomorrow.
But for me, the best lesson he taught me, what does my check registry reflect? When the next generation is going through my paperwork, will they know that Jesus was more than a word on my tongue and a savior in my life? My Bibles reflect the scripture that has spoken to me through highlights and underlines. My writings show where my heart has been. My children are a physical reminder of my time here.
But what will my check registry legacy be?
Recently, Curt and I have been going through our "stuff." Everyone has stuff, some of us more than others, but our stuff has gotten to the point that it has taken over our lives. The last two moves have made it impossible to have stuff and utilize the limited living space we have.
In other words, goodbye stuff.
We have no basement for storage, so everything has been piled into our garage. Boxes, tubs and shelving units, all full of items we thought we needed. It seemed to be an insurmountable task, but I was ready to take it on. In hindsight, I wasn't quite prepared emotionally for what was before me.
When my dad died, we were faced with cleaning out his apartment in a short amount of time. It was a time of healing for my sisters and I, but also extremely hard. We were so young even though two of us were adults, but we had never had to deal with death before, especially on such a personal level. We had no idea what we were doing. We entered Dad's apartment, armed with garbage bags, tubs & nowhere near enough Kleenex.
When all was said and done, I had tubs upon tubs of Dad's belongings. Things we didn't think we could part with. Those tubs have been with me since 2001; 14 years of storage. They have been moved to 5 different houses and only opened before and after each move in order to know what was lurking inside. I never could bring myself to go through them.
This week, that all changed.
As I opened the first couple of tubs I had to shake my head. I don't know what we were thinking, but the items inside were far from the sentimental keepsakes I had hoped to pass on to my kids. Used Kleenex, scrap paper, old gauze bandages (not used, thankfully), cords to electronic devices that have been gone for years and other odds and ends. THIS is what I had been storing and saving for years?! The garbage bags became more and more full and empty tubs from our past littered the driveway and garage.
Some items brought tears, some brought chuckles, most brought sighs of slight annoyance. I was making pretty good time going through the tubs, tossing papers from Emily's Kindergarten years and making piles of items to donate to our local second hand store, until I came upon a box of old papers, bills, and receipts.
This box was different than the ones I had looked at with a smile and joyful tear. Inside I wouldn't find a love note from Emily or Gabe's scribbles on old refrigerator art. This box was from a time period that I have long put behind me. In many ways I had blocked it from my memory.
The first paper I picked up was the divorce decree for my parents. Ouch. Following it were child support payment receipts, a record of which weeks were paid, which weeks weren't, bills walking me through almost every day after my dad's accident, legal documents showing he no longer had to pay child support, legal documents showing Uncle Ronnie as his Power of Attorney and then bill after bill after bill of his every day living from then until his death in 2001.
It was hard. I relived the pain of abandonment as I read the visitation scheduled my dad had, knowing he never, not a single time, came for us. I relived the difficulties my mom had as she struggled to raise the three of us without financial support. I relived the years I was responsible for babysitting my two younger sisters because there were no other options. I could feel the bitterness rising up, something I thought I had defeated years ago, but there it was, beginning a slow burn in my heart.
I sat there crying. Our youngest children couldn't understand why I had so many tears and my husband had no idea how to comfort me. My emotions were totally out of control and the anger with which I began throwing papers into the trash bag were completely unchecked.
It was at this moment that I came across a check registry.
As I opened the booklet, I wasn't sure what to expect. I had worked myself up to a pretty good level of hurt and that numb feeling was beginning to take root. As I read the entries, I could feel that shell of hardness begin to melt and it was replaced with that warm feeling of security. As I turned the pages, the painful memories of my teens and early twenties were replaced with the remembrance of who my dad was the years before he died.
He was a man after the heart of God.
He belonged to Jesus.
He was a child of the King.
He was a brand new creation.
What does a check registry have to do with all this? Let me show you.
Page after page of the same entries, for years. Years of giving. Every month without fail, he gave to his church and other ministries that had a special place in his heart. More than 20% of his income, which was limited due to disability, went to others.
Every. Single. Month. Without skipping, with complete regularity.
When his Social Security went up with the cost of living, so did the amount he gave away, without fail.
My dad didn't live with extravagance, but he lived with purpose. Even at the end of his life when others would have given up. He was confined to a wheelchair, a quadriplegic, yet continued to think outside of himself towards others in need.
He had accepted the forgiveness and grace that our God offers through Jesus Christ and had started new.
And I, in all my superior ways, had never let him really start fresh with me. I never truly forgave him for the mistakes, and they were numerous, he made with his family during tough times.
I live with those regrets. I live knowing that my dad never heard the words, "I forgive you" from my lips. I live..........
Oh, to turn back time.
I gently closed the check registry as tears slipped down my checks, my chin, and to the floor. My dad had left me far more than I had ever given him. And he had just left me a final lesson in life.
Forgive? Yes and often.
Love? Fully. Hold nothing back.
Let nothing go unsaid.
Live outside of yourself and know that the decisions you make today will affect others tomorrow.
But for me, the best lesson he taught me, what does my check registry reflect? When the next generation is going through my paperwork, will they know that Jesus was more than a word on my tongue and a savior in my life? My Bibles reflect the scripture that has spoken to me through highlights and underlines. My writings show where my heart has been. My children are a physical reminder of my time here.
But what will my check registry legacy be?
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