Leaving a Legacy

A few months ago, the family and I went to my mom's house in northwest Iowa. It is a little town, maybe a thousand people or so. Most are Norwegians. Many are farmers or at least want to be farmers. But times have changed. Today, the people work at a few small manufacturing plants and a food distribution center. There is a small grocery store. A couple banks and a gas station. I think there are four small churches. The people cheer for their 8 man football team in the fall. Although I haven't lived there for twenty years, when we walked through the streets or went to the local pizza place, the people still knew who I was and greeted me with a firm handshake or an occasional hug. Many of you have been to a place like this before.

There is a house one block due north from my mom's house. It is a dirty white and hasn't been painted in a long time. The roof needs replaced. A window in the garage is broken. The weeds are overgrowing pretty much everything. This is the house where my grandpa Adolf and grandma Elva used to live. The house looks much different than it did twenty years ago. It was immaculate. A big vegetable garden used to encompass much of the side yard. The lawn was mowed every few days and the flowers were watered early every morning. In the winter, smoke would come from the chimney from the wood fireplace that grandpa built by himself. During the other three seasons, many of the neighbors would gather on the front porch. You could usually smell grandma's baking as you entered the house. She kept the house spotless and sanitized. Although grandpa was born in Norway, every morning, when it wasn't raining, he would go out and raise the American flag on his white, oil-base painted flagpole.

Maybe somebody will buy the house and fix it up. Maybe not. Maybe some new family will create new memories in that house. Maybe it will just be torn down. Either way, I look at the house and part of me is sad. But thankfully, grandpa and grandma's legacy isn't that little house on First Street. Their legacy is years of investing their lives in others. Grandma was as loving and nurturing as you were going to find. She was a true servant. She embodied what grace is all about. Grandpa was hardworking and tough. He was frugal and thrifty. He was a listener and made some of the best lefse and coumpa this side of Oslo. More than anything else, he was wise.

I write this early on a Friday morning in my home office. Part of their legacy is in this house now. Part of who they are is who I am. Part of who I am is who our two boys (who are making the writing of this a bit challenging at the present time) are. Legacy isn't about stuff. It's about people. What kind of legacy are you leaving?

Fresh Lefse

Training Update

Nothing. No time. Busy day and I went to the Millard West football game tonight.