How do you measure the worth of a life? (who would want that job, anyway?) Is it in the works that were left behind? Do we see the many works of a carpenters hand, and weigh him according to their value?
If that is the case, then the life of my friends Dad was something worthy, indeed. He built things. He was a manly man. He swung a hammer, he sketched out plans on lined notebook paper (or was it graph paper?), bought things at hardware stores, and turned those things into even better things. Where a normal person would see a pile of wood and nails, he saw a playhouse for his grandkids. Or a pool table for his children. There is creativity there. And production. Its a fascinating thing, being able to produce something. He made good things.
Or is it in the effort of the work? If we measure life by that standard, then this man had no equal. By reputation, he was the hardest worker around. Up before dawn, he spent decades devoting himself to hard work. When paying jobs were done, there was still work to be done at home. Even if an addition to the family mountain-home took longer than expected, it was still being done. On nights. Weekends. "Free time." Work was part of life, and he taught his children that hard work was a worthy thing.
Or should we measure the worth of a life in the love it leaves? Do we count the tears at a memorial service, add them up, and keep a score? If a family mourns, then surly, it was a worthy life that we lost. He was praised for always having a hug for his children. And now grown, they were quick to say he always had plenty of hugs and kisses for his 10 (one on the way!) grandchildren. His loved ones felt loved. That should mean a worthy life was lived.
But maybe the best way to measure a life is in the legacy that is left behind. In this man, I see four grown children. Each of them are working hard to find the best way for their lives. For their families lives.
One child is a coach. He wants his kids to be tough, like his father wanted him to be tough. He knows that a life is measured, not by the things that are built, or the effort of the worth, or even the love it leaves, but in the legacy that is left behind. That is why he wants his kids to know the value of their pop-pops life. He recognizes that the best legacy he can leave behind is carrying on his fathers legacy.
One child is a fireman. But not really. Really, he is a pastor. He's my friend, and I'm sad that his Dad died. He wanted to honor his father today, and he did that by showing us all that a father leaves an undeniable finger-print on a childs life. And when that child is an adult, they will still have that fingerprint as part of their identity. That is a HEAVY thing to think about, fathers. I'm thankful that my friend reminded me of that today.
One child is a teacher. The other is a new father and husband. The teacher told me that she wasn't sure what she should do in the next stage of her life, but when I asked her what her Dad would want her to do, she knew the answer right away. That doesn't mean her Dad was right, but it does mean he was decisive. I like that. The new father and husband is the youngest, and he had the least amount of time with his Dad. But he shared a special bond, forged over goal posts and touchdowns. And marriages and firstborn sons. He is part of his Dads legacy, and now has the safety harness removed...so to speak.
I am not looking forward to the day my Dad dies. It will be really hard. I don't want to stand up at his memorial service and say ANYTHING. I hope he never dies.
But not really. I know that death awaits us all. I know its a consequence of sin. And I am so thankful for the legacy my Dad is leaving to his family. It is one of building things. And of hard work. And love. But mostly, of Jesus.
I know my friend and his siblings all love Jesus, and that is a good thing. I pray that I leave a legacy like that for my children as well.
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