In memory of Matthew Brooks.
Sitting on the back deck of my in-laws' house in Galveston, I was mesmerized by the waves and contemplating the idea of legacy. Kelly Minter's study of Ruth (Loss, Love, and Legacy) has resonated with me, and far exceeded my expectations--challenging me in new ways, encouraging me with old struggles, and just plain feeding my soul. Legacy. Such an interesting word. The hope of legacy over the idea of heritage. It's not just what we got to begin with because the real story is what we leave behind.
Watching the waves, I thought about the rhythm of life--the ebb and flow of the seasons of life. Sometimes, life crashes around you. Sometimes, the waters are calm and steady. In and out. In and out. My life could be measured in those waves. Temporary and fleeting, hitting the shore line, then disappearing.
What will I leave behind? In the wake of my life, will I leave debris and trash? Something someone has to deal with, dispose of, be troubled by? Or will I leave treasures of shells, beautiful and intriguing? Something someone cannot wait to search out, grasp, and hold dear--perhaps even a treasure that is passed along, admired, and enjoyed?
Today marks the end of a wave, the end of a precious life. Today, goodbyes were said and hearts were broken. Today is THAT day. The marking of time--life with Matt suddenly became life without Matt. I cannot fathom. But, I know shells were left along the shore line. I know untold treasures of a life well lived can be held dear, admired, enjoyed, and passed along. I know that while life sometimes ends too quickly, a legacy lasts forever.
Sitting on the back deck of my in-laws' house in Galveston, I was mesmerized by the waves and contemplating the idea of legacy. Kelly Minter's study of Ruth (Loss, Love, and Legacy) has resonated with me, and far exceeded my expectations--challenging me in new ways, encouraging me with old struggles, and just plain feeding my soul. Legacy. Such an interesting word. The hope of legacy over the idea of heritage. It's not just what we got to begin with because the real story is what we leave behind.
Watching the waves, I thought about the rhythm of life--the ebb and flow of the seasons of life. Sometimes, life crashes around you. Sometimes, the waters are calm and steady. In and out. In and out. My life could be measured in those waves. Temporary and fleeting, hitting the shore line, then disappearing.
What will I leave behind? In the wake of my life, will I leave debris and trash? Something someone has to deal with, dispose of, be troubled by? Or will I leave treasures of shells, beautiful and intriguing? Something someone cannot wait to search out, grasp, and hold dear--perhaps even a treasure that is passed along, admired, and enjoyed?
Today marks the end of a wave, the end of a precious life. Today, goodbyes were said and hearts were broken. Today is THAT day. The marking of time--life with Matt suddenly became life without Matt. I cannot fathom. But, I know shells were left along the shore line. I know untold treasures of a life well lived can be held dear, admired, enjoyed, and passed along. I know that while life sometimes ends too quickly, a legacy lasts forever.