Unforgettable

A weekend ago we were in Lora's hometown of Danville, VA. It was just for the day so she could visit family while I had meetings in the area. The first time I went to Danville was Thanksgiving, 1993. We had just started dating and it was time to "meet the family." Mr. and Mrs. Wilson were country folk, very simple, good people. They took an immediate liking to me, which reinforces the notion of their goodness. After a day or so of small talk I drummed up the courage, as tradition would have it, to pop the question to Lora's dad. "I'd like to have your daughter's hand in marriage, sir." I was young and dumb, so I actually used those exact words. Even now I cringe with recollection. His eyes narrowed as he leaned toward me and in an unflinching tone whispered these words I'll never forget: "That's fine. And I know you a preacher and all, but you better not never beat 'er." Of course, I agreed, and the rest is history.

I grew to love Lora's parents over the years and they became second parents to me. Mom was the kindest, most unassuming lady you'd ever want to meet--always greeting with the most beautiful smile. I was her favorite son-in-law. She told me many times, even though she never admitted it publicly, mostly to save others from disappointment. Pop was crazy. He always bought stuff he didn't need, and told jokes that were only funny because they made no sense. You can see why we were close:). I had the privilege of leading him to the Lord. I can assure you that "privilege" doesn't come close to expressing what I felt on the day he got saved.

Looking back on the years I knew mom and pop, I see all of their best traits in Lora, and even in my kids. They didn't have much, but what they did have, they poured into their children, and into me too. We had great times together and they taught me a lot. I watched them, both of them, die with grace and the peace of knowing that they really had done the best with what they had. So last week we visited the cemetery for the first time. Forgive me if this is comes across morbid, because it was anything but that on this perfect Saturday evening. Just before sunset Lora, Cameron, Casey and me stood on a pristinely manicured grassy hill, laughing and reminiscing about the times we had with them. The height of the rolling landscape put us at eye-level with these huge, irregular cloud shapes that formed an almost-fake looking backdrop from a movie scene. It struck me, at that surreal moment, that we were making memories right then--that this could be a day my kids would talk about when I'm gone. More importantly, things like this will shape the persons they are becoming.

Most of us will not be remembered for "great" accomplishment or some big event in our lives. Our lasting impact may be the smile we give to someone at just the right time, or brief, yet sincere words with long-term implications. Whatever the case, our lives count the most when lived out through other people. It's wonderful to make memories, but even better to make a difference.