practices that are handed down from the past by tradition
"a heritage of freedom"
I have been fortunate to have two God-fearing, Christ-loving, Bible-believing grandmothers. I do not take this blessing lightly. Grandma Nancy might have been a part of my day-to-day life, but Grandma Rose is prayer warrior like no one I’ve ever met. Whenever a need is apparent, I can count on a phone call from Grandma Rose and know the words “Let’s pray” will be one of the first words uttered.
My cousins lost their second grandma last Sunday. First Grandma Nancy in August, then their grandmother, Eleanor, a few weeks later. I attended both funerals and was struck by the legacy both women had left, one of mercy and compassion and the other of steadfast faithfulness. Looking down the line of cousins, at both funerals, where each grandchild bore a stamp of their grandmother’s print on their lives is inspiring.
Just this past Friday, after having lunch with some dear ladies in Denver, I decided to stop by Grandma Rose’s house on a whim. What was intended to be a quick stop, a short visit, quickly turned into hours. I sat at her elbow, across the table from my aunt, and soaked it in. Their stories, their wisdom, their life lessons. At one point, Grandma Rose took my face in her hands and with the sassy way she has, said to me, “I share this so you will learn!”
This morning we sang Kristian Stanfill’s Always in church. Reagan sat on my hip, her head on my shoulder, her face buried in my neck. The thought came to me. Share with her. This is her heritage too. So as we swayed to the music, I brought her ear to my mouth.
“Reagan Jacqueline, you are a child of the utmost High. You belong to the King.”
Oh, my God, He will not delay.
My refuge and strength always.
“He has mighty plans for you, my Love. You need only Him. He has, is, and will always prove faithful.”
I will not fear, His promise is true.
My God will come through always, always.
I sang each word over her, over her soul, and over her heart. Each word was lifted up as a prayer, bestowing on her the same heritage I received at my own mother’s and grandmothers’ hands. As I sang, I prayed that the words would take root in her heart, that she too would someday know the deep truth of them.
And as life cycles forward, and just as generations before ours, we hand down the tradition of placing our trust, our lives, our hearts in service to the one true King. It’s the richest heritage I could ever dream of possessing. And now its my turn to see that the heritage is shared forward.