I used to drive past a cemetery on my way to drop off Sweet Girl at her school each morning and each afternoon. Often, there was a funeral procession entering the cemetery or a graveside service in progress. I never thought too much about it except that I certainly didn't want to be there anytime soon.
But now I am looking past that place and wondering. One day, when the how and the date are past, there will be something that is left. And that is the legacy that I will leave behind me. Not my husband's legacy, not my family's legacy. My legacy.
What will be the legacy that I leave my family?
When I drive past there these days, it always starts me thinking specifically about how my children will remember me through this most difficult time. If this season of our life is over soon, will I have the chance to regain who I thought I was as a mom? Will I have the opportunity to get back to the legacy that I thought I had begun?
The legacy that I wanted to leave was one of presence. Of "look you in the eye" and pay attention to the details that are so important to a seven-year old dog-lovin' cowboy, a three-year old little mommy, a sixteen-year old girl who is figuring out who she is....an eleven-year old who loved to read with me.
That legacy would put my husband in a prime position in our family and make our home a calm in the storm. The legacy that I wanted to leave says, "You are so very important to me." It puts God as the main presence and healer in my life. That legacy relies on Him and not on myself.
Maybe I'll have the chance to get back to that legacy. Maybe Sweet Girl will soon recover (at least somewhat), and I won't be the sworn enemy, the personification of all evil in the world to her.
Maybe I can get back to being the mom that I wanted to be instead of the mom who has no time right now because she is on the phone with the doctor's office going over test results, instead of the mom who is too tired to push you on the swings because she was up so late messaging another PANDAS mom and googling "detox solutions".
I don't want to be the mom that forgets to say prayers with you or pray FOR you because she is restraining your raging sister (or YOU). I don't want to be the mom who tells you to take your sibling out of the room while I deal with your raging sibling. And I sure as heck don't want to be the mom who is angry and loses her temper after being called a selfish brat for the fifteenth time today.
I don't ever want to give you the impression that you are in my way. I don't ever want you to feel anything less than precious to me.
If today were my last day on this earth, I think the best legacy I could hope for would be:
Perhaps that is enough for today.