Legacy

Last week we buried my grandfather. He was ninety-four. During those years he did a lot of living. He raised a family and saw his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren be born. Some might say he lived a good long life. We, his family, remembered and celebrated his life during a service on Wednesday. We laughed and cried and told stories to commemorate his life. We came together as a family and said goodbye to our Papaw one last time. Two days later, we were saying goodbye to Landon McIntyre, a twenty-four-year-old young man who happened to be very dear and close to my family, as well. A sudden heart-attack took this young man's life in his prime, leaving behind a grieving fiancee', crushed family and bewildered friends. The week made for a stark contrast and much reflection on this strange and often confusing convention we call life.

Watching the old and the young taken from this life in such indiscriminate fashion left me searching for answers. My usual nature to apply some philosophical viewpoint to the situation was silenced. No words came last week. At times my thoughts would try to organize and wrap the circumstance in nice rhetoric.  Then my head would shake as I realized the sheer foolishness of trying to put in words  something I scarcely understood. 

An old man died.  A young man died.  That was all I could say for sure.  Each left his legacy and mark on his world for however long he was given to do so.  The people close around would see no more the physical actions and words that had come to define these two men.  That time was over.  Remembered now is what was done.  Forever etched now into the psyche of those that knew them is the kindness rendered and words spoken.   Nothing can be added.  Nothing can be deleted.  The legacy is cast.

The difference you make in your world, however great or small, begins each day when you wake up and breath in.  What you do with your day writes your legacy for your family and friends to live with forever.  If today was your last, what would it be?  The possibility and potential that could be, must be.  There is no time for little things.  There is no pet peeve.  Pet is short for petty.  Love your family.  Go the extra mile for a friend.  Champion the cause of the down-trodden you may have only met this morning.  At the end of each day, you should be able to look in the mirror and genuinely be proud of the way it turned out as much as it concerned you, your words and your actions. 

No more “as good as” and no more “better than.”  My life is its own mark.  No need to compare it with others.  Whether my next breath is my last or one of many more, I will treat it as if it were to mark me for eternity.  Because, in actuality, it does. 

Whitney

We were sitting in a restaurant last night with some friends when the breaking news popped up on my iPhone.  "Whitney Houston dead at 48."  My initial reaction was disbelief.  Then I began to recount the endless stories in the news about the abuse, the drugs and the saddening spiral she had slowly descended in the last few years.  It was just a matter of time, I'd always told myself.  But this morning I can't stop thinking about her talent and sheer anointing that held so much more promise and longevity. 

Anyone knows that such a gift does not come along everyday.  Some long for, even beg for the gift and spend a lifetime pursuing it.  Whitney had it and God gave it.  Honed and shaped in church while singing in the choir, this girl was destined for greatness and, as it turned out, achieved it for a brief time.    I watched "The Preacher's Wife" again just this past Christmas and hung on every note she sang.  I have never been moved by any artist like I have been moved by her.  And it wasn't just the notes she sang.  Many have come behind her since and matched her note for note.  No, it was the anointing that was with her since the church choir days that set her apart and made people listen. 

Although I would have loved to hear Whitney's later career had she remained clean, I will remember her sweetness and gifted delivery of a song.  We all have been given gifts.  Some never find their's.  Whitney did and we'll be forever grateful.