Legacy
A child born in the peace before war
must have soaked up the elixir of strength
that fortified the greatest generation
to not give up, to create blessing
in the hard, the sorrowful, the challenges
sheer determination finding ways
to raise two children in unanticipated ways
working jobs not reflecting her worth,
grace-filled humility opening a world
of opportunities and security that pride
never could or would.
Paycheck poor is no reflection
of family-value rich, tradition rich,
faith rich, work-ethic rich
sacrificial love walking out
humility’s grace and beauty,
become richer than a paycheck allows.

“And the LORD, He is the One who goes before you. He will be with you, He will not leave you nor forsake you; do not fear nor be dismayed.” ~ Deuteronomy 3: 18

Not Knowing. . . Until She Knew is a poem about legacy, a poem about brokenness, a poem about a child of God not knowing who she was to God, a poem about facing challenges with only her own strength, her own wisdom, her own determination, a poem revealing God in the all-along, that she had traveled so far not knowing who was with her and able to help her because someone in authority told her God wouldn’t go with her or allow her in to heaven. It is a poem about my mother. . . and in so many ways, about the legacy of faith of her grandmother—my great-grandmother.

. . .and the grandmother fed
the hands that worked at a noon-time table
then withdrew to her quiet place
reading the gospel, praying hope,
searching the Imitation of Christ,
planting, watering a faith legacy.

I remember meeting Muddy when I was old enough to walk.  I remember walking through a maze of furniture to where she sat in a chair by the fire. She offered me chocolates from a box on the table beside her. I don’t remember her funeral, but I remember her funeral mass when I wasn’t much older. I’m sure the chocolates distracted me from truly seeing my great grandmother, but her legacy has reached down to me. How? In ways only God knows how the root of one faith can reach down through the generations. Sometimes those ways are very direct. Some times those ways are very mysterious.

Muddy wanted her children saved for Heaven. God was the desire of her heart—and her children’s salvation was the desire of her heart. One of the ways she helped to influence her grandchildren’s faith. She helped ensure that by paying for my grandmother’s children to go to Catholic schools for that religious education.

“The bringing up, as of a child, instruction; formation of manners. education comprehends all that series of instruction and discipline which is intended to enlighten the understanding, correct the temper, and form the manners and habits of youth, and fit them for usefulness in their future stations. To give children a good education in manners, arts and science, is important; to give them a religious education is indispensable; and an immense responsibility rests on parents and guardians who neglect these duties.” ~ 1828 Noah Webster’s Dictionary.

Muddy wanted her children saved for Heaven. God was the desire of her heart—and her children’s salvation was the desire of her heart. She helped ensure that by paying for my grandmother’s children to go to Catholic schools.

. . . and the grandmother gifted priesthood
vestments to a young man with no means
to purchase his own.

Mary Eva. . . Mayme. . .Muddy  along with Willard Claud, Granddaddy – my great-grandaddy–oh how their hands were helping hands to their extended family, the community where they lived, and their church community.

Mary Eva “Mayme” Foreman Wills was born in 1882 and died when I was 3 and ½ at 83 years old, on December 18, 1965. She married Willard Claud Wills in 1906. He was born in 1877 and died October 16, 1946.

For ten years, he raised his family in peace time in Kentucky. My grandmother, Mary Edna was born in this first swath of peace time. World War I started over 11 years after they married. When the war ended, peace settled in again for about another 11 years.

If extended family needed a place to live, they rearranged bedrooms, always making room. My grandmother, Mary Edna, slept in the hallway for a while when her grandmother moved in.

Claude built a school house at the edge of a field by their house, just by the road. The school teacher lived with them during the school year. Their house wasn’t a big house, but they made room for what they deemed valuable. Education was valuable –and they ensured their little community had that opportunity. Their daughter married in 1927. My grandmother’s first daughter was born in 1928 – in the peace and seeming plenty one yar before The Great Depression.

The Great Depression hit, which lingered until about 1939. Wedged in between The Great Depression and WWII was a sigh of relief – and in that sigh of relief my mother was born, Linda, the youngest of 5 – Mary Susan, Joyce Margaret, Shirley Ann, Teddy. Eleven months after her birth, December 8, 1941, World War II began.

For 17 years – from the beginning of The Great Depression to the end of World War II, my Grandmother and Grandfather would load the car with all the children and drive from the edge of the city to Muddy and Grandaddy’s farm and take home bounty that would provide for them during the week: milk, chickens, produce – whatever Muddy and Grandaddy grew, they shared with their children—and their children’s children.

One example of their generosity was gifting a set of vestments for mass to a young, new priest who could not afford to buy his own.

With the work of their hands, they provided for their family and community in times of great challenges from food, priestly vestments, tuition, and time.

. . . and the grandmother prayed
salvation prayers over her children.

Yet, they didn’t just do it in their own strength; they invited God into the challenges. Mary Eva. . . Mayme. . . Mother. . . Muddy. . . met with God every afternoon after lunch and leaned into Him.

Daily after cleaning up the lunch mess, she would retire to her room and read her bible. . . , but let’s first talk about that lunch. Those lunches fed all the farm hands. I used to wonder how she had the energy to make lunch for all her children and the farm hands and then make dinner for her family. She didn’t have outside help; she did this on her own. Keep in mind clothes and linens needed washing, too. Making one big meal in a day wears me out. . . how did she do two?

One day, after researching, I realized that she cooked her big meal at lunch time. Dinner time was left over lunch. I’m sure those leftovers were better than most of our dinners today. She would have her kitchen cleaned up of the Big Mess from the noon meal and would just need to set her table for dinner in the evening. When she retired after lunch to read her bible, the hardest work of the day was behind her.

She and Claude raised three boys and one girl – my grandmother being the oldest.

Mary Eva. . . Mayme. . .Mother. . . Muddy, didn’t just seek the Lord for herself. She sought it for her children and their children

. . . and the grandmother prayed
that Her Lord’s face would shine upon
those God had given her.

Claude died 13 months after Japan surrendered in September, 1945. He died of a ruptured appendix. By the time he went to the hospital, he was septic. It always struck me that the father and grandfather who had steered his family so well through the storms of the world’s  challenges died before he had the chance to enjoy the season of peace that came upon the world. His son, James, my great Uncle Jim, took over the farm. Mary Eva. . . Mayme. . . Mother. . . Muddy. . . she kept praying.

. . . and the grandmother prayed
salvation prayers over her children
and their children.

Mary Eva. . . Mayme. . . Mother. . . Muddy. . . continued praying for her children, her grandchildren, and her great grandchildren. . . . holding on to God and His promises for her family. Mary Edna, her daughter, raised her five children, opened her doors to family who needed a landing place while they found their feet, went to church, gave thanks before meals, sewed what her family couldn’t afford, held the family together. If you’ve read parts of Elijah’s Mantle Series, you might recognize her as a woman of strength who held her family together through sheer determination, possibly unsure of how much God was willing to help her in the holding together. Her family bible rested, open, on an entry hall table under a clock that no longer worked.

“Know therefore that the Lord your God is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments, to a thousand generations” ~ Deuteronomy 7:9

. . . and the grandmother died, and the priest
who could now afford his own vestments
said to the granddaughter,
“Heaven isn’t for you.”

Mary Eva. . . Mayme. . . Mother. . . Muddy

Muddy passed away when I was three years old. The priest whose first vestments she and Claude had gifted had moved to the edge of the city where Mary Edna raised her family, serving at the church they attended. When my mother eloped with my father, he had chastised her, told her she wasn’t heaven-bound. Then when my father walked away eight years later, wanting a divorce because he was tired of the responsibility, the re-iterated that she wasn’t heaven-bound. The prayer warrior, the intercessor, the grandmother who had fought for salvation for her family was no longer there to stand in the gap, calling out to God to protect her children and their children. . . . It might have felt as though Mary Eva’s. . . Mayme’s. . . Mother’s. . . Muddy’s legacy fell empty onto hard ground, turning it into a mist evaporating in the hot sun of her children and their children’s and their children’s challenges. The legacy stored up, though, by a praying parent, parent, or grandparent, isn’t so easily lost to time.

. . . and the mother prayed with her children
dinner time prayers, church book prayers
because even the animals get the crumbs
from The Master’s table.

My mother began walking a hard journey in 1968 as a single mom. We all moved into Theodore and Mary Edna’s, my grandparents, house. . . and like her mother before her, worked  hard in her own strength, held her little family together, took us to church, even though she wasn’t allowed communion, even though it was determined by the priest she wasn’t heaven-bound, even though she had become an outsider to the family of God. . . she wanted her children to be on the inside, heaven-bound. She found a way for them to attend school where Jesus was allowed, and thanked God for his provision around the dinner table.

I imagine she felt a bit like the woman of Canaan who had brought her daughter for healing. She was determined. She didn’t give up. She wasn’t welcome inside. But my mother, she kept taking us to the House of God, to schools that taught about Him. I imagine she felt this conversation in real time:

“ But He answered and said, ‘It is not good to take the children’s bread and throw it to the little dogs.‘

 And she said, ‘Yes, Lord, yet even the little dogs eat the crumbs which fall from their masters’ table.’ “Matthew 15: 26-27.

Jesus healed her daughter for her faith. I believe Jesus, in the same way, honored my mother’s efforts for us to learn about Jesus. That my great-grandmother read her bible and The Imitation of Christ, most people who went to our church were not encouraged to read the bible, especially in my mother’s generation.

She raised her children in her own strength, not having read the words in the bible that sat open in the entry hall of the house beneath the clock that didn’t work. She remained faithful to her children and pursued God the only way she knew how despite being told He wanted nothing to do with her.

A life-time of Not-Knowings
stealing a lifetime of peace
a lifetime of rest
a lifetime not knowing
she did not have to rely on sheer determination.

I grew up hearing my mother cry herself to sleep, crying over the lost dreams, crying over the hard challenges, crying over the hard of motherhood, probably even crying over being a mother yet a child once again in her parent’s house, crying, mostly, though she probably didn’t realize it, because someone said God didn’t want her, had evicted her, left her alone. . . but that’s not what God told her grandmother.

Then the LORD passed in front of Moses and called out: “The LORD, the LORD God, is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in loving devotion and faithfulness, / maintaining loving devotion to a thousand generations, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin.” Exodus 34:6

Finally Knowing
He and His angels had been beside Her
all along. . . . . . and her grandmother’s
faith legacy sustained her, carried her,
saved her.

My mother moved to a town about 24 years ago, was invited to a church for communion, for restoration, for salvation. She heard that the Word of God was for her, too. The Holy Spirit watered the faith soil of her soul and the legacy seed planted by her grandmother stretched toward the light, reached upward, not quite knowing the reception it would receive when it broke through into the fullness of His light but growing upward anyhow.

One morning, my mother had an asthma attack due to the effect her carcinoids had on her body. She’d never had to use her inhaler before but she desperately needed it that morning. She had no idea how to use it. She pulled over to the side of the road, got out of her car, not able to breathe. A woman appeared out of nowhere, showing her how to use the inhaler, staying until she caught her breath and help arrived. . . and then she disappeared. My mother never saw her again; she never responded to the newspaper article about how she saved my mom’s life.

God sent his angel that morning to save my mom, letting her know, though the man of God had thrown her out of heaven, He hadn’t. He had never left her side in all those years. She never knew until then He had been with her all along. One day, she’ll probably see that He did more for her than she realized, just as one day, we will all better understand how He would have eased her burden, her brokenness and her heart-ache. That legacy seed of faith her grandmother planted. . . it’s thriving more and more each day. . . just like those legacy seeds of faith in ourselves and our children. . . .

Maybe some of this story is about church hurt and its devastating effects on the lost, the prodigals, and even the children of God hurt by their own choices and the choices of others. I think it is more about legacy, about redeeming the broken places, and about a God who doesn’t leave us though there are those who will try to persuade us He doesn’t want us. Maybe it’s about the importance of praying for others and the long-reaching effects of those prayers. Maybe it’s about knowing Jesus wants to help carry the burden, give refuge beneath His wing, give respite in the shadow of Himself. Maybe it’s about the importance of reading the bible on your own so, no one can ever steal what was rightly given by our Savior to you and me.

I admit there have been many times in my life that I have looked back on the faith of my great-grandmother and felt the legacy of what she stored up poured over my life – as a child, as a wife, as a mother trying to find a place to withdraw and find time with my Savior – and the Savior of my children and their children and their children. I do believe that God allows that legacy to reach down through generations and pour Holy Spirit water onto a seed planted long ago–though that seed is not what saves us but is the catalyst to draw us back to God if we’ve lost our way for any reason. I want to pray for my children like that, to pray a legacy for their children and their children’s children. I never want a one lost, unable to come home because they didn’t know Heaven was for them, too. I also don’t want them to be crushed under the weight of the burdens life’s challenges throws at you. I want them to know Jesus is there to help them with those burdens, to find hope when things feel hopeless. I want them to benefit from that kind of legacy living.

. . . and the grandmother prayed
salvation prayers over her children
and their children and their children.

Remember Me Monday: #155 Link-up

“I’ll make a list of God’s gracious dealings,
    all the things God has done that need praising,
All the generous bounties of God,
    his great goodness to the family of Israel—
Compassion lavished,
.    love extravagant.”
~ Isaiah 63:7, The Message

In the Old Testament, God repeatedly, quietly and loudly, tells his children, “You have forgotten me!”  (Jeremiah 3:32, Ezekiel 22:12, to name a few). It’s a heart cry from a father to a child who has forgotten all the love, all the saving, helping, little and big blessings – and it leaves me stunned when I realize our Father, the creator of the universe, who knows things I cannot begin to fathom, who authors storylines that leave me amazed, delights in all of us so much, He cries out, “Remember Me.”

While every day is a Remember God Day, I am inviting you to join me on Monday mornings to come by and remember what God has done for you, for your family. Maybe God sent a cardinal darting out in front of you, as if to tell you, “I’m here,” or broke a child’s fever after you laid it all down at His feet in a 2 a.m. bedside vigil. Maybe He stood with you in the wait of a prayer sent out, or brought someone you loved to Christ. Maybe He healed your broken heart, gave your courage, or you gave Him your dreams as a love offering only to have Him give them back in an unimaginable way. Maybe God helped you survive to bedtime after a crazy Monday, or forgive yourself for missing it with your kiddos –– Whatever it is, let’s Remember Him. . . in a “Remember Me Monday” love letter.

“My mouth will tell of your righteousness,
Of your salvation all the day long,
Though I know not its measure.
I will come and proclaim your mighty acts, O Sovereign Lord”
~ Psalm 71:15-16.

Let us delight in Him by telling the  stories of what He’s done!  If you wrote a blog post remembering what He’s done for you, join the linky. If you didn’t but still want to praise Him for what He’s done – write it in the comment section. Then visit a comment before or after yours! One of the beautiful things about the blogging community is the relationships it builds!

Rules?  Write long or short, a list or a story, include photos or not. Just Remember Him and what He has done, and let the gratitude of your heart guide you. Let’s make Monday so Rejoice, that the goodness of God spills into the rest of the week! (Link opens Mondays at 6 a.m.)

Places I’m Linking at This Week:
  Instaencouragements, Legacy Link-Up, 
Let’s Have Coffee Wednesday 
Recharge Wednesday, Scripture & a Snapshot
Grace&Truth, Sweet Tea & Friends
The Good, The Random, The Fun