I really hurt today. One of those every-muscle-in-my-body-is-complaining kind of days. My hamstring cramped just as I was waking up. And it felt like my leg was on fire. I had flashbacks of past neck surgeries and glimpses into a possible future of back surgeries. That nagging fear – the dread of what may happen – almost got to me in the agonizingly long minutes before it finally began to ease up. What a way to start thee day.
It didn’t stop there. Before we left for the house, I answered a knock on the door. An insurance adjuster was there to take someone pictures and had some questions. I sure had no answers, so I grabbed the cell phone and started dialing my brother as I followed “Inspector Gadget” down the stairs. Somewhere between the seventh and tenth digit, I missed a step – literally. Yep. That’s right. I fell down the stairs. Now, it was OK. I didn’t drop the phone. And I didn’t feel any more pain that I was already feeling, so I stayed on my back, crossed my legs, and finished the phone call. How’s that for a save of a tremendously embarrassing situation? Actually, it did scare me – and the inspector – and I will be really sore tomorrow. But I don’t have time for pain right now. Too much to do.
My project for the day today was to see if my books were in any condition to salvage. And I’ll tell you upfront, the answer is not many. I think this was my own personal biggest loss. I had a pretty good library in my home office of commentaries and reference books. We had two bookshelves dedicated to Christian fiction. Over the years we had also accumulated a large collection of children’s books. And we also had the textbooks and homeschool resources for our sons’ school careers. Oh! And Chris’ nursing reference books and her collection of cookbooks. The books were a tangible link to our family past. They were the tools of my trade right now. And they were to be a big part of the inheritance I left to my sons. I had even hidden a $20 bill in a few of them so they would get a nice surprise when they read them. Wish I could remember which books … and how many.
I told my oldest son Kel how I felt about the books. And I told him I was sorry that his inheritance had been washed away. I honestly expected him to say something like, “Yes, but at least you saved the baseball cards.” Instead he responded with one of the most profound lessons I have learned through our Ike ordeal. “But Dad, that’s not the inheritance I want. I already have parents who love me and taught me to love. I have my inheritance.”
An inheritance of relationship. A legacy of love. Boy, was I ever humbled.
1 Peter 1:3-5 says, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade — kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God's power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time.”
Father, help me to be worthy of the words of my son. Amen.
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