It's a miracle, really. The way the years melt away as she repeats the oft-told stories. The way gray hair, wrinkled skin, and arthritic fingers give way to girlhood. The way history restores youth.
"Back in my day..." Four little words, and my grandma is a kid again. All spunk. Tomboy through and through.
I could listen to these stories. For hours. I've heard some of them so many times I'm sure the words are embroidered on my mind, stitched on my heart. The thread of my grandma's voice holds them all together.
You see, in the listening, these stories have become mine. They've become part of me. Like Russian nesting dolls, my heart is layered with family history.
These stories are my inheritance.
Sure, there are a few scamps and scoundrels clinging to our family tree. And the branches do not bend with the weight of celebrity or royalty or wealth. But the roots? Well, those are planted firmly in faith.
And isn't that worth inheriting?
My great-grandfather, owner of Riverside Lumber Company, supplied furniture manufacturers with lumber at a time when Grand Rapids was known as "Furniture City." Business boomed. My grandma recalls her parents' home during this time of prosperity. Imported tiles. Gilded decor.
My family has known plenty.
Then? The Stock Market crashed. My great-grandfather's debtors could not make payments. The business went under. The beautiful home? Gone.
My family has known loss.
My great-grandfather resolved to repay his own debts. Every last one of them. It took him years.
And my great-grandmother? Did she lament? Begrudge? Bemoan? No. She knelt on the imported tile of her beautiful fire place - the pride and joy, the heart of her home - and prayed. Her prayer echoes across generations: "Thank you, Lord, for all you've given us. You've been so good. Now you have chosen to take away. We trust you to provide for our future."
My family has shown faith.
And me? I'm from these people. I'm from the hard work, the losing everything, the bending knee and giving thanks for what has been taken away.
I have inherited a legacy of faith.
Jesus talks about inheritance in Mark 10. A rich young man asks Jesus, "What must I do to inherit eternal life?" Jesus responds, "Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then, come follow me" (v. 21).
Seems like an oxymoron, doesn't it? To inherit is to gain, to acquire. Jesus tells the rich young man to give away his possessions so he can gain eternal life.
Give = gain
Earthly poverty = heavenly wealth
Faith = inheritance
So my great-grandparents were on to something. They lost everything. Every penny. Yet three generations later, their legacy lingers. Does their money fatten my wallet? Does their gold expand my bottom line? No. But their trust, their faith, their prayerfulness point my heart to the place where my treasure lies. And that is a priceless inheritance.
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