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Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

death

What we leave behind

November 8, 2012

I don’t think much about legacy, or how I’ll be remembered, until one of my kids repeats a behavior I’m trying to break or I hear in my own voice decades-old words I’m trying to forget.

Legacy. It’s heavy stuff.

And we’re talking about it over at The Deeper Leader blog this week: “How do you think you’ll be remembered? What kind of Legacy do you hope to leave behind?” Add your voice by commenting or posting a blog of your own.

It’s an appropriate topic for this week, when we’ve exercised one of our great freedoms in this country by voting. A president’s legacy is one that overshadows him almost before he even takes office.

But I have to ask, is thinking about legacy–a good one, anyway–a detriment to leaving one?

I’m guessing that those who have left the greatest legacies, be they presidents, activists, philanthropists, parents, or anyone in between, didn’t think about what they were doing as “leaving a legacy.” If I let those words hover over my daily activities, I wonder if I’d accomplish anything worthwhile. No pressure!

I almost always think of legacy as something positive, and when I consider the people who have left a legacy in my life, I think of those who invested time or money or experience in my life in some personal way. Of course, legacy can be a bad thing, and in some families, a legacy of pain, suffering, abuse and neglect can transcend generations. One way I see my life’s legacy is to serve as an ending point for any painful legacies passed on through the years.

I don’t know if anyone will consciously talk about my legacy. I can’t imagine having a building bearing my name or a monument erected to my memory–wouldn’t that be something!–but what I imagine, and hope for most, is a legacy of faith. That my children would love the Lord with all their mind, soul and strength and follow Him wherever He leads. That they would have children who would follow Him, too. That because Christ wooed me to Himself, because He worked in generations past to preserve our family line, generations yet to come would know Him, serve Him and build His kingdom.

I read these words today, from Psalm 71, not knowing that legacy was the topic for the blog this week:

And now that I am old and gray-headed, O God, do not forsake me,
till I make known your strength to this generation
and your power to all who are to come.

I am neither old (34) nor gray-headed (my stylist found one gray hair on my birthday a few years back) but this, this, is the legacy I long for. That God’s great and mighty works would be known to future generations. That what He has done in my life will not die with me but will endure in the days to come.

I can’t think of anyone who doesn’t want to be remembered fondly and well.

The key to that is to live now the way you want to be remembered.

A lasting legacy, then, is sure to follow.

Filed Under: Children & motherhood, faith & spirituality, leadership Tagged With: death, generational sin, how will I be remembered, leadership, legacy, presidential election

Saturday Smiles: World Peace edition

April 28, 2012

I know almost nothing about current events and/or sports except the snippets I catch from my husband’s ESPN viewing habit. So I have NO clue why some guy, whose name is World Peace, is in trouble for some kind of physical altercation on the basketball court. But the irony is so funny, as are the many tweets and Facebook statuses I’ve seen about it.

That’s something to smile about. Unintentional humor gets me every time.

We had our own “world peace” funny in the house this week. While playing this game, Isabelle decided the faces needed friends not matches. So she set down United States boy and picked up the Afghanistan girl and said, “There. They can be friends.” I have no idea how this translates to foreign policy, but maybe we need to get the U.N. to play this game and give everyone a friend. Later she matched India with Iran and said they could be friends. There was a lot of boy-girl matching going on, so if the foreign policy gig doesn’t work out for her, she can always run a dating service.

She is the source of many smiles this week.

Like when she pretends to be a cat.

And finishes her first-ever soccer clinic, complete with end-of-session medal.

One afternoon, I was lying on the couch because I could not keep my eyes open any longer. (Tell me you’ve been there!) She comes right up to my face … or should I say, she backs up to my face, pauses then walks away. I asked her why she did that. “I tooted on you. It was a BIG toot.” My husband, who was supposed to be working on a paper, busted out laughing. Trust me when I say, she is his child. This is learned behavior from a Dad who often shows his affection in dad-like ways, like tooting in their general direction. What was funny to me was how funny he thought it was.

I’d never considered that teaching your kids about Jesus could have unexpected side effects. Isabelle was singing to her brother out of the hymnal (she can’t read it yet) and her song went something like this: “He makes us happy when we sing. He makes us happy. He makes our ants die, die, die forever. They die forever.” Our kitchen is currently under attack by ants and I’ve launched a counter-attack in ant traps. Isabelle has been fascinated by the illustrations on the back of the packaging that show ants dying. Stay with me; I’ll get back to Jesus. Later, she and Corban were playing with a Little People ambulance and an Ariel doll (Barbie sized). Ariel was sick, or as Isabelle said, “She died forever.” Izzy carried her to the play kitchen oven and put her in because it was “a dark lonely place.” I assume this is her interpretation of Good Friday and not something altogether sick and twisted. Let’s go with Good Friday.

I’m amassing a collection of photos for which my son will hate me when he’s a teenager. Here’s the newest addition.

Here’s a more respectable one for him. He was jealous of the Izzy-as-cat picture at the time.

He looks innocent, but he gave us a “first” this week. We’d been to storytime at the library, where he and his sister had made ladybugs, and somewhere along the way, his ladybug lost an eye. By the time we sat down to lunch, it had lost both eyes. Corban’s had a bit of the sniffles lately, so we’ve been blowing his nose a lot. Just before lunch, Phil had Corban on the couch blowing his nose when I heard Phil exclaim, “Corban Ranard!” Wondering what warranted such a reaction, I rushed to the living room to find my husband holding one of the googly eyes from the ladybug. It had come out of Corban’s nose on one of the blows. I don’t remember Isabelle ever sticking anything up her nose. I think we’re in for a treat with this one.

Two workouts in this week plus a chance to get out of the house on a nice-ish sunny day in the middle of the week. The rest of the week was surrounded by cold, gloomy, rain-type days.

My husband’s senior banquet … a date night equivalent. We dressed up. I didn’t have to cook. Someone else watched the kids. The celebrations begin.

Three papers stand between my husband and graduation. Last week it was seven papers/assignments. One step at a time.

Happy Saturday!

Filed Under: Saturday smiles Tagged With: date night, death, Easter, embarrassing photos of your kids, Good Friday, soccer clinic

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Hi. I’m Lisa, and I’m glad you’re here. If we were meeting in real life, I’d offer you something to eat or drink while we sat on the porch letting the conversation wander as it does. That’s a little bit what this space is like. We talk about books and family and travel and food and running, whatever I might encounter in world. I’m looking for the beauty in the midst of it all, even the tough stuff. (You’ll find a lot of that here, too.) Thanks for stopping by. Stay as long as you like.

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