Legacy

My screen saver is a conglomeration of pictures. Pictures of my family, pictures of our trip to France, old pictures of relatives. Today as I sat at my desk reading, the screen saver kicked on. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my grandfather and grandmother as newlyweds. No smiles, but eyes looking right at me. The next picture was a picture of my father looking as he did later in life, hat on his head, suit and tie, looking right at me. Mom. The other set of grandparents. All looking at me as I read. It was if they had all gathered to see what I was doing and looking at me as if to give their approval.
My eyes welled up in tears as I thought of the legacy they have left me. My Grandmother and Grandfather Garloch. He an elder in the St. Joe Church of Christ. She stricken with multiple sclerosis at a such a young age that I don't ever remember her without her bent legs struggling to get around holding on to furniture as she made her way around. They were victims of the Great Depression who struggled with the lack of jobs. My grandfather worked at a brick yard where he handled bricks so much that he had a grip that never left him. He eventually became a coal miner, broke his back in the mines, and died of lung cancer and black lung disease. They raised my mother, a coal miner's daughter, to love God. She was able to travel the world and see things she never imagined.
My Grandmother and Grandmother White weren't affected so much by the Depression because they owned a farm. But they ate what they grew, drank milk from cattle they raised and ate pork from the pigs they were able to purchase. They ate by the sweat of their brows. My grandfather was a deacon at the Bearwallow Ridge Church of Christ. My grandmother, one of the original liberated women. She eventually ran an old country store and pumped gas on Highway 681 near the big cities of Ohio. Cities with names like Floral, Alfred, Darwin, Hemlock Grove, Tuppers Plains. They were a little ways from my favorite, Coolville. I learned of my grandfather's struggle with the loss of his infant daughter, blaming God. Yet he raised a son who was the one and only to go to college, who preached for many years, who became an English professor in Christian schools, whom I proudly called my father for 39 years of my life.
Legacy. It's so important. As I sat there reading today, I couldn't help but feel the legacy they left for me. A legacy that says to love God, serve others, and teach those around you to do the same. What a wonderful legacy I have! You don't have that kind of legacy? Yes, you do. If your family didn't care about spiritual things, Jesus did, your spiritual family does. And you can begin your own legacy...today. Have a great day. If you're going to Tulsa, I'll see you there. I'll be writing next week. JW