I’ve felt a push, . . an external force, . . implying that it was important that Dan leave something behind; something that will make an impact on this world. I have, on occasion, tied myself up in knots trying to come up with something valuable that I can say he left to the world at large. There is always the argument that he left seven kids, but they don’t even know him.
Sometimes a sense of panic assails me when another part of Dan disappears. For example: A friend dies and another witness to his life is gone; his computer crashes and his work vanishes into thin air; his children don’t remember playing games with him; I can’t remember what his favorite candy was; a book that had his name written in it gets lost . . I am well aware of how temporal this world is, how nothing will last, and even though I am encouraged to “build a monument” in his honor, I know it just won’t work.
Today, as I faced the second anniversary of his home-going, I was musing on the verse that says we ought to lay up treasures in heaven and I realized something. Dan’s legacy is not in what he left behind, but in what he has before him. His legacy isn’t here on earth; his legacy is up there in heaven.
Another part of Dan goes missing from this world because everything in this world will fade away, but the things he laid up in heaven are the things that are still there. I don’t have to be concerned with keeping a “legacy” down here. Dan doesn’t care anymore, God has one where it counts, and we will get to share in that legacy when we get to see him again.
No, the things that I have and keep are just for my kids and I, not necessarily to remember (although it helps), but to give us comfort in our pain. And as we grow in the Lord we will be able to turn more to Him for comfort.
Thank you, Lord, for giving us an eternal legacy and a place of importance in your family.