As I sit surrounded by my Grandma’s stuff I realize that we get to choose what kind of legacy we leave behind. I am so thankful that my Grandma was a praying woman who knew God better than she knew herself. She said “I fail my Lord daily” but I sure didn’t see it. She prayed, read her Bible, treated everyone with the utmost respect, wouldn’t miss church for any reason, and helped every individual she met, whether it was a homeless man, friend, family, or the new resident at the nursing home she visited.
I remember a time as a teenager I was having some issues and she simply sat on the steps of my aunt’s porch listening. Just listening. No one does that when you’re a teenager. Everyone knows better and wants to let you know how much they know. I don’t really remember her saying anything except we would pray about it. Well, if only it were THAT simple Grandma, I thought. I thought she didn’t understand. Now that I’m not a teenager anymore, I understand a little more. Some days I think a lot more, but inevitably something happens to remind me that God’s the only One Who knows it all.
I am so honored to have her kitchen towels (you know the ones that have lasted for 3/4 of a century and will probably be passed down to my children?) and her loaf pans that she gave countless loaves of bread to anyone and everyone that might be suffering from a “zucchini bread-deficiency” in their diet. I now have her apron, whose strings were probably tugged on by my father’s chubby hands. Her legacy and memories are spring eternal and lovely throughout my home, especially my favorite room of the house, my kitchen.
We get to choose the thoughts and the memories we leave in others’ minds when we’re gone. As any embroidered pillow (I have one of those too) or stepping stone in the cemetery will tell you, “Loved ones live in memory even when they’re gone.” Our lives echo throughout eternity and to the ears of the ones who still have a journey left.