A Life That Rises Above The Rest

My grandpa’s legacy is heavy on my mind. He died two weeks ago at the ripened age of 94. Upon hearing news of his decline, we rushed to get Selah the necessary documents to leave the country. We picked up her passport on a Friday and received permission for her to legally leave the country on a Monday, and by Tuesday I was on an airplane headed to Chicago with Phoebe and Selah.

The following day we visited Grandpa, once in the morning and once in the afternoon, not knowing it would be the last time we saw him this side of heaven.  Selah got a kiss on the forehead and Phoebe sat on his lap; memories I will forever hold in my heart. Two days later, he was gone.

Grandpa was generous and caring, loving and intentional, thoughtful and wise. 94 years is long, and short. He loved people so well, and those people showed up at his celebration of life to share memories across generations.

At the end of the service, Randy Grebe, a great friend of the family said, “Life isn’t measured by the years we lived but the lives we touched and when people live lives of significance we watch and we follow.” Then, he addressed the grandchildren and great grandchildren. As one of the grandchildren, and now with my four little girls as his greats, naturally my ears perked up.

 “A legacy,” he said, “is something or someone that we follow. Some people in life are not worth following, but then there are others who are, and they rise about the rest, and your Grandpa, great Grandpa, was one of them. Now it’s your turn. What are you going to carry on?”

Then, he listed some character traits that were shared that morning, his integrity, servant heart, loyalty to family, willingness to help others, and his faith in Jesus Christ. And isn’t that the truth? We don’t just leave one thing behind. Rather, we leave behind a way of life, a path to follow (or not), but our lives are carved out of a steadfast endurance in the way that we are with others. Legacy is not wrapped up in one thing, it’s who we are as a whole that encourages and emboldens the next generations to carry on the light of Christ and press forward in the difficult trails of life.  

I returned home from Chicago a bit perplexed. What am I going to carry on? How do I live in such a way that Grandpa’s legacy is passed on, even if it looks different, especially when it looks different. How do we instill a sense of belonging to this great family inheritance of faith?  Do we need to move closer to “home” to pass on his legacy? I experienced such cognitive dissonance in trying to reconcile the two.

Discouragement set in. What about Grandpas prayer life? I want that, those precious QUIET moments with God. I pray, yes, but it’s done in spurts between spilled milk and loud cries for “MOM!” while trying to kill the recent ant nest that’s popped up. Literally. Or, I may find myself praying as I’m on my way to break up a fight between the girls, because I truly don’t know what I’m doing.

How do I live out my relationship with Jesus in a way that ripples through generations when even the tiniest ant trail can derail a good day? No pressure, Alison. I became discouraged by the seemingly large gap between what I envisioned it looked like to carry out a legacy filled to the brim with good character development and the realities of today.

Even now, as I’m writing, Phoebe is singing outside my doorway. I’ve been interrupted at least six times, with my frustration level rising as I re-read sentences to find my thoughts once more. I feel further and further from the person I want to be.

Yet I press on. Perhaps that’s just it though. A legacy isn’t something we can conjure up. It’s not a habit driven process to accomplish a nicely curated goal. Rather, it is the essence of who we are to the core. You can’t fake a good legacy; everybody knows the truth. That type of lasting impact takes time because it is through the ebb and flow of life, through seasons of good and bad, rain and drought, and through joy and suffering that a person is built up, torn down, refined, and purified.

In the end, Grandpa’s life, rose above the rest, as Randy said, because of his personal relationship with Jesus and the knowledge of where he was going. His persistence in prayer was built over a lifetime. His generous hands, that hid one hundred dollar bills with a handshake, began at the heart, from where all things flow.

The last time we saw Grandpa, his mind was nearly gone with dementia. And in that state, he did what he always did, he quieted our room of chit chatter to say a prayer and thank God for family. I hope, that in my old age, if I make it that far, that I will pray a similar prayer, thanking God for a family that loves one another. After all my ponderings, I’ve resolved that in as much we can teach our girls to love God with all their soul, heart, and mind and to love one another and our neighbors as ourselves just as Jesus commanded, Grandpa’s legacy will carry on. Now it’s our turn to walk steadfast and say our prayers, no matter where life takes us.