The Tracks We Leave

For all our days pass away under your wrath; we bring our years to an end like a sigh. The years of our life are seventy, or even by reason of strength eighty; yet their span is but toil and trouble; they are soon gone, and we fly away. Who considers the power of your anger, and your wrath according to the fear of you? So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom. (Psalm 90:9-12 ESV).

I suppose I am more reflective than usual as a result of two “milestones” in the near future. One is my 70th birthday. Though that won’t happen for a few weeks, I have caught myself thinking about the past more than is typical for me. The second milestone is our 50th wedding anniversary, which won’t take place for several months. Both of these together, however, are powerful incentives to become a bit more nostalgic and reflective. Finding a proverb accredited to the Dakota Tribe, I was taken to our reading today. I have made a conscious effort to ignore the most obvious reference of verse ten which detail the number of our years. My intention is to focus on verse 12, “So teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom.” That speaks to the concept of “legacy.” Leaving a legacy involves far more than handing down a monetary inheritance or passing on a good family name. For those things will surely pass away and forever be forgotten. A lasting legacy, one that continues for eternity, is written on the hearts of our loved ones. Of course, from my perspective, this ought to contain a strong belief in Jesus; however, there ought to be more than that left behind. This requires more than a “religious” education. As our children (and, if possible, our grandchildren) grow up, they may not see faith as something precious and invaluable. Especially if they have been raised in the church and surrounded by Christianity their whole lives, the value of a godly heritage may not be immediately apparent to them. My hope is that they will remember the “tracks” of faith I’ve lived out in their experience. I remember a critical time in my career years ago as I was charged with the accusation that I believed my family was more important than the church. I often regret not having the wit quit enough to answer with a more powerful response than I gave. I was guilty of that charge; I still am today. That brings me to a bit of encouragement to you as you read these words. The best of what I have done is poor; and, we certainly don’t want to look at the worst! However, my hope is that I have left deep tracks of love, care, and understanding along the trail so that my family might easily follow that path. My hope is that is has become well worn and clearly visible. I am convinced it is never too late to begin making those tracks in the hearts and minds of those whom we love. Wherever you are in your journey, forge that trail clearly!