Legacy

It has been said that there is at least one person in our lives who inspires us, who challenge us, who mentor us to be the people we turn out to be. Most of the time it is in the tender places of our childhood, where our roots are shallow and tender. Other times it is well into adulthood when our solid oaks of who we are are transformed by a wack to the trunk and we are no longer the tree we thought we were. I have seen with my own eyes, lives shaped, changed, transformed by this journey of life. Some things so beautifully intententional, others devestating to the soul.

I have been hiding from life these days. Wondering at the place I am. Looking at the faces of my children, who are looking like men and a little woman. There are no toys on my floors, no cartoons to watch and no car seats to buckle in. I wonder if I will be that person who inspires my children. I wonder I will be the one who gave my kids the emotional and spiritual strength in who they are becoming. It is hard to be in this place. I can no longer hide our struggles from them. They know when there is no money and when we go to the food bank, or pretend to go camping in the backyard. They know that when their parents argue it is over the weight of not knowing how or when things are going to change. I watch their faces and hear them laugh and see them cry. I know they carry some of the burden and I want to take it from them. Mostly, I  feel blessed that they are near me, safe and protected.

I think to the time when I was young. I was always so passionate, full of life and adventure. By the time I was 10, I wanted to be the first woman astronaught in space. By the time I was 12, I wanted to be the first female president. By the time I was 13, I wanted to be in the Olympics and break the world record for speed. By the time I was 14, I wanted to start my own business. By t he time I was 15, I wanted to be a business woman, who made millions of dollars. By the time I was 16, I was in love and didn't really care about much of anything. By the time I was 17, I wanted to be a missionary in Africa. By the time I was 18, I wanted to travel the world. By the time I was 19, I met a man, God told me was my husband. By the time I was 20, I was married. When the ring was put on my finger and I said, I do, I no longer had personal ambitions and dreams, I now had married ambitions and dreams. By the time I was 21, I had my first son and that began my journey of motherhood. I did not ever go on the adventures I had planned...just a different adventure.

Motherhood. I don't believe that was in my list... Wait. Did I know how to be a mom, could I be a good mom? The quest of determining what we were to do with parenthood, became the topic of most of my husband and my conversations. Would I be a mom, just a mom? No career, no path, no dream, just mom? Yes, I could go down that path. I could take one step at a time. I could feed and love and care for this little one. Then the next little one, then the next. I navigated through some deep waters with much prayer and trust in my Savior. I took one step at a time and fell and soared and tripped and ran. I was a mom. I am a mom.

I am watching my own mother navigate through her thoughts and assessing her life as she battles this wicked disease. I see her fight for what she desires and believes to be true. I have listened to her stories and seen the books she filled her soul and spirit with. I have watched her read the Bible and talk about seeing Jesus. I listen to her tell me about all the fond memories she has of her 4 children and the things we did. My mom was a career mom. She worked long hours and was mom when she could. She struggled to be the stay at home mom she wanted to be in the short hours she had with us, when she was not working. It was in the hours she was working were most of my bad memories come in. I believe that is why I had a hard time with my mom. She does not know or remember or was even a part of those times. Part of me holds her responsible for not being there for me when I needed her to be; and part of me understands why she was not there. I feel like the Lord has given me a gift in helping me to understand why my mom sees things so differently than me. This gift has given me grace and love for my mom that I have not had before. There are still many things we do not agree on, but I am willing to give them to God for His care.

And so, I think about my life and who has inspired me. Who has made an impact on my life? There are so many people who have gently nudged or shoved or even carried me down this river of life. My mom is one of those people who gave me gifts along the way, who I in turn hope to give to my children.

The word legacy comes to mind. It is not just an idea, but a treasury of people and things that make up who we are today. The books on my shelf, the cookie cutters in my drawer, the tea cup in my cabinet, the doll in the cradle, the candlesticks on my mantel.... have given me a legacy that I can pass down to my kids. Each item, each story, each person who impacted me, will also shape my children. It is with that hope that I believe I can and will be that person who inspires my kids. Because in reality it is not really just me who is inspiring and shaping them, but all the people who helped me be who I am today.