Walking with God, leaving a legacy

On Saturday, May 16, I received word that a family from our Lafayette church had experienced a house fire the night before, killing the wife and both children, leaving only the husband.  This was a family I knew only by sight, but the abrupt, tragic ending of these three lives shook me just the same.  As I was still praying for the husband and church family through the following days, pondering the brevity of life and wondering how I would respond in similar circumstances, I learned that a friend from our Louisville church was in the hospital, most likely on his deathbed. On Saturday, May 23, I answered my phone to hear that he had died hours after being released from the hospital.  The circumstances in Louisville were very different from those in Lafayette, but both situations have served to sharpen the focus that has been developing in my heart over the past couple of months.

OB Turnbow was 82; he had lived a long and faithful life and, over the past couple years of ever-declining health, had been asking his family when Jesus was going to come to get him.  OB and his family knew that the end was near, and they knew that the end was only the beginning for OB, for when he left this earth he would go to live with Jesus (and join up with some old buddies who had beat him there, much to his chagrin).  While they are still sad today, as they spent the afternoon in the funeral service and at the cemetary, they are able to celebrate a long life that left a legacy for many.

I was privileged to attend his funeral service this morning, and a couple of  things struck me.  His daughter spoke of a dad who was faithful to lead his family in prayer and in nightly Bible readings.  She gave testimony of a man who loved others and showed it in his actions, opening his home to countless children over twenty years, not to mention visiting missionaries or college students or anyone who just needed a place to stay for awhile.  The man she described was a man who impacted lives, a man who left his mark on those who knew him.  In a way, I feel like I missed out after hearing his life described today.  You see, by the time my path crossed OB’s in the summer of 2003, he bore the lasting effects of a stroke that robbed him of his health.  I never knew him in his prime, but from what I did know, I can easily picture the man she described.  OB was slower in speech and slower in movements by the time I met him, but his love for others and for God was still very clear.  I know because I saw him love my daughter.  Abigail was six months old when we came to Beechmont, and OB would seek us out every Sunday to talk to her and play with her.  I would sit with him in the nursery rocking chairs, with one or the other of us rocking her, and we would just chat about nothing.  You had to listen more closely and pay more attention when he spoke, but he had things to say.  I used to feel frustrated for him, because his body was no longer keeping up with his mind and I could imagine how frustrating that must be.  Sometimes it seemed like people were in too big a hurry to slow down and match their pace to his, whether walking or talking, but when you took the time to go slowly with OB, you were blessed.

The other thing that struck me this morning was the text for the funeral sermon, chosen by OB’s wife Norma.  She asked the pastor to read the passage of Enoch in Genesis.  Enoch, the Bible says, walked with God.  Norma wanted this read, because, as she said, OB walked with God.  The pastor, of course, went on to say more, but my mind stopped here.  What an incredible testimony of the faithfulness of a man!  It’s probably a pretty safe assumption that Norma knew OB better than anyone else on this earth did, and at the end of his life, she wanted it made clear to everyone that OB walked with God.  We all know people who put up a front at church, who put up a front around friends.  It could even be possible to put up a front before one’s children, if one tried hard enough.  But Norma and OB had a long marriage together.  If Norma says OB walked with God, then we can be sure that he did.  He wouldn’t be able to fool his wife.  That’s the kind of life I want to live.  No matter how long or short my life may be, I want to live so that my husband, who knows me inside and out, good days and bad, would say that I walked with God.

OB left a legacy.  He left a model for his children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren to follow, one that they can follow with confidence.  OB’s death has served, as I said, to sharpen my on focus on leaving a legacy for my children and any others who may follow.  I want to live on purpose, to be intentional, to redeem the time that God has given me so that a testimony of faithfulness can be given of me when I’m gone.  Thank you, OB, for your legacy.

And the family from Lafayette, the mom and two children who were so young and who died so tragically?  If OB’s death sharpened my focus, then their deaths moved my focus up to a more urgent level.  For that mom did not expect, that Friday morning, to be living her last day.  That Tuesday, as she went about her daily tasks, she had no clue that the following Tuesday she would be buried.  I want to leave a legacy, but I have no idea how much time God will give me to do so.  So I have to live today, right now, in such a way as to create a testimony of faithfulness.  I can’t put it off for when my kids get older, or when they leave home, or even until our house sells.  My legacy is already being built in the choices I am making right now, in the words I say to my kids and the tone in which I say them, in my responses to life’s curve balls, in my relationship with my husband, in my compassion-or lack thereof-for those around me.

I want to walk with God.  I want to leave a legacy.

The Child’s Story Bible

For nearly two years now, Abigail and I have been reading through The Child’s Story Bible by Catherine F. Vos for homeschool.  We started it the first day of preschool, and have read one story a day.  We finally read the last story yesterday, now that kindergarten is almost over.

This is an absolutely excellent book for children to read through the stories of the Bible.  We owned it even before we began Veritas Press, and it turned out to be the Bible storybook that they recommend, so that is what we chose to use for our Bible curriculum.  It has several features that are worth a big thumbs up.

It is extremely thorough, as you might have guessed by the length of time it took us to read every story.  Some chapters are broken up into sections, and we read only one section a day, not the whole chapter.  That added many days to our reading.  You could get through it faster by reading the whole chapter in a day, but each section was long enough to stand on its own, so we just read the sections.  It covers every Bible story that you could think of from your Sunday school days.  It also has sections and chapters that cover background information, such as describing the feasts, the tabernacle, the division of Israel, the journeys of Paul, the preaching of Paul, the legacy of Paul, and John’s vision on the island of Patmos.  We used The Big Picture Bible Timeline coloring pages to accompany the stories, and we averaged 1-2 pictures for every five stories because of the thoroughness of the story book.

Another feature I loved was the language used in the stories.  There were many, many times when I was reading a story to Abigail and recognized the very language of Scripture.  The author tells the stories in narrative form, but uses verbatim Scripture phrases throughout.  One good result of this, I realized, is that the child will become that much more accustomed to hearing the cadence and tone that is so distinct to Scripture.  I also liked knowing that using the words of Scripture guaranteed that the story stayed true to the Bible without straying off the point or including too much of the author’s own interpretation.

The book also includes beautiful illustrations sprinkled throughout.  Abigail loved looking at these when there was one corresponding to the story for that day.

On reading the preface to the revised edition, we learn the incredible origin of the book.  Catherine Vos’ mother told these Bible stories to her as she was growing up.  Catherine then told them to her own children when they were small, who began to ask to read the Bible stories for themselves.  Catherine searched for an existing Bible storybook that would be faithful to Scripture and convey the natural excitement and warmth of the stories.  Finding none, she undertook the monumental task of writing them herself.  The book first appeared in three volumes, appearing from 1934 to 1936.  It was combined into one volume in 1940, after Catherine’s death.  Her daughter, Marianne, is responsible for the revised edition that we have.

I, for one, am thankful for one mother’s diligence and determination to provide her children with a solid, true-to-Scripture, engaging story book, and then to make that book available to parents everywhere to share with their own children.   These stories were easy for Abigail to understand, and she repeatedly got caught up in the emotions of the stories.  I treasure the two years I spent with her in these pages, and look forward to starting again at the beginning this fall with Catherine.  I highly recommend The Child’s Story Bible to any parent looking for a Bible storybook to read to their children.

The newest quotables

Abigail and Catherine were playing doctor with their dolls the other day. Abigail said one doll needed surgery. Catherine asked, “What’s surgery?” Abigail answered, “That’s when they cut you open and take something out, like…um…your appendix…or…your conscience…”

Last night after supper, Samuel had the hiccups. Catherine was the only one still sitting at the table with him. When I walked by, she said, “Mom, me and Samuel both have the hiccups–I just haven’t had any yet.”

Peanut butter kisses and Cheeto’s fingerprints

There once was a time when I stayed up late and slept late on a regular basis.

There once was a time when the only bottom I wiped was my own.

There once was a time when I would go days without seeing anyone cry.

There once was a time when a jar of peanut butter lasted a month, and a gallon of milk lasted a week.

There once was a time when I had never smelled the sweet breath of a baby who just finished nursing.

There once was a time when none of my clothes had spit-up stains or Cheeto’s fingerprints on them.

There once was a time when a three bedroom house seemed too big for our family.

There once was a time when I thought that nursing, being a stay-at-home mom, having a lot of kids, and homeschooling were what hippies did.

There once was a time when I had never had a peanut butter kiss.

There once was a time when I never walked through the house and picked up feather boas, cardboard Burger King crowns, crying baby dolls, or tiny little flip flops.

There once was a time when the seats of my car did not know Cheerio crumbs, the windows did not know Barbie stickers, and the rearview mirror did not know Sharpie.

There once was a time when staying home all day would have been boring.

There once was a time when no one had made up a song about me that said, “My Mommy loves me and I love her and Mommy is her name-o!”

There once was a time when I never thought twice about saying the word “stupid.”

There once was a time when I went to restaurants and actually spent the whole time at the table instead of serving as a potty escort three times.

There once was a time when swings and slides were simply a part of my distant past.

There once was a time when going to Kroger didn’t require two carts.

There once was a time when I honestly didn’t care how well-staffed the nursery was.

There once was a time when I had no clue how big a role Disney Princesses would play in my future.

There once was a time when I had never unashamedly sung “The Wheels on the Bus” over and over again in a crowded restaurant.

There once was a time when the words “Bob Nunnos,” “leg remmy,” and “Aunt Gertie” simply didn’t exist in my vocabulary.

There once was a time when “Mommy” referred to someone else.

There once was a time when Abigail, Catherine, Elisabeth, and Samuel were just names of various people throughout history.

There once was a time when I lived life mostly for myself.

Now I am the one called Mommy. I wouldn’t go back to that other time for anything in the world. Thank you, Abigail Nicole. Thank you, Catherine Grace. Thank you, Elisabeth Anne. Thank you, Samuel Frederic. Thank you for making me a Mommy and for a great reason to celebrate Mother’s Day. I love you all more than I can say and I love being your Mommy.

The Bible on sharing (at least according to Abigail)

Abigail was looking at a book the other day while riding in the van.  Catherine decided it should be her turn for the book, and asked for it.  Abigail refused.  Catherine, pouting, said, “Abigail, share.  The Bible says share.”  Abigail returned, “Catherine, I’m not done!!  The Bible says share when you’re done!!!“