Life, Death, and Posterity...

Happy New Year!

As a Christian, I believe this life is just a brief prelude to the glorious eternity I will share with my heavenly Father, my Lord, and my loved ones. But that's not what this post is about. Today, New Year's Day, 2012, I'm thinking more about what my legacy will be here on earth for the generations that will come after me -- for my children's children and beyond. As I sit here listening to Dan Fogelberg sing "Sketches," and thinking about his early demise and his musical legacy, I can't help but wonder what I'd leave behind if, like him, my passing came earlier than expected.

I've been writing children's picture books, midgrade novels, and one long, arduous Young Adult novel for the past decade or so. None of them are published yet, but I keep plugging along. Suppose those book manuscripts never make it into the hands of children the world over. Would my legacy still be acceptable?

I've written a few songs and poems over the years. Those are unpublished, too. I've written for fashion magazines, for nonprofits, for television. Will any of that last? Probably not.

I love home design and decorating. I seem to have a knack for it, too. When I designed my own dream home, it turned out great! But the extra expenses involved when we had to switch contractors twice left us destitute. Was home design my legacy? Probably not.

I love to cook! Every year at Christmas and Easter, I whip up a magnificent feast a la the Frugal Gourmet and Nancy Glass (my mother). The oohs and ahhs feed my soul as I watch my family feed their stomachs with satisfaction. Is that my legacy? Making memories with my family around my table is sweet. But I doubt it will reach past the next few generations. I mean, I don't have any of my great grandmother's recipes. Do you? No, cooking is probably not going to leave a lasting legacy.

There are two things left circling in my mind. And neither of them involve accomplishments. First, I look into the eyes of my children and see smoky visions of myself staring back, glimpses and snippets of beautiful times we've had together. My daughters remember dancing through a field of wildflowers with me, singing a Jars of Clay song (Love Song for a Savior) at the top of our lungs as we drove to church each Sunday. "I WANT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU! I WANT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU! I WANT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU! I WANT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU!"

I think I've found my lasting legacy.

My calling all along was to spend myself on behalf of my children, to teach them to know and love their Savior, to gently guide them with loving, firm hands that will gradually shift from fresh and pink to wrinkled and chapped to arthritic and marred before returning to their Maker. My greatest joy is to bring glory and honor to God. And my highest calling is to share His love with a suffering world. But my everyday legacy will undoubtedly be wrapped up in thousands of tiny moments shared with my family -- moments of pure joy and bliss and seasons of tragedy where all I had to offer was a shoulder to cry on and tears to shed in unity with the hurting.

I am 48 years young. There's still time for that great novel of mine to get published or maybe a work of nonfiction I'll be wrapping up soon. Until then, my hope is that my soul will nourish the souls of those most precious to me.

Yours, with feet firmly planted in nutrient-rich soil and heart pierced and broken for the humble and needy,

Megan Elizabeth