When I think back to my growing up years, one particular image sticks in my mind: a black leather Bible, pages well-loved, cover embossed. It sat on our kitchen table, open, alongside a composition book filled with my mom’s beautiful handwriting.
I knew my mom read that Bible every day. She wrote prayers and petitions in that notebook. One day I snuck a peek in her journal, to find a poem she wrote about me, in the throes of some teenage ridiculousness. I can’t tell you the impact it made to know that my mom cried out to God on my behalf.
I wonder what my children will remember of me, when they are grown and raising my grandkids.
Will they remember my Bible open, my prayers on their behalf, my heart’s cry for them to love Jesus?
Or will they remember my face glowing from the radiance of my iPhone? My need to escape the crazy chaos that is our home?
Will they remember snuggles and sweet words, encouragement to be more like Christ?
Or will they remember my anger and impatience, my selfishness and pride?
What’s more…How will they parent my grandbabies? Will they do a good job of always getting to the heart issues, being consistent in discipline, but never disciplining in anger? Will they always remember to make Christlikeness the goal?
Or will my sinful patterns affect the way they parent, either swaying them to be too harsh or too lenient?
May God’s mercy and the power of the Holy Spirit cover our home. May He change me to be more like Him. May He protect my children and the coming generations from the sin that entangles my heart.
Despite the odds, may Christ be glorified in us.