Legacy

These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up—Deut 6:6-7 (NIV)

My grandfather died years ago at age 96. His was a relatively uneventful life. He left behind no great accomplishment. There were not but a handful of people at his funeral, as he outlived most of his friends.

He never had children of his own (my father was his stepson). He did count my sister and me as his grandchildren, and our kids as his great-grandchildren, but he was never particularly “grandfatherly.” That is, he just did his own thing and when we were around, that was fine. He liked us, but tended to talk to us like adults. I doubt he really knew much about what made any of us tick, but he did remember to send cards on our birthdays.

After he died, my dad and my grandfather’s wife were cleaning up. They came across his old ukulele. “Oh, send this to Bob,” Arlene said, knowing I play guitar and other instruments, “he should get a kick out of it.”

When it came in the mail, I was shocked. This was not some cheap little plywood ukulele; this was a Martin! I own a Martin guitar and know that this is the most highly esteemed guitar maker in this country.

Going online, I determined its model number (1-T), vintage (between 1938 and 1955), and value ($1000-$1500).

I put new strings on it, found a chord chart, and have had a lot of fun playing it around the house (although my kids do not want to hear “Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head” one more time). I have no real use for it, and I’m sure that the money I could get from selling it would come in handy. However, a treasure such as this, I have no interest in selling.

This ukulele is my connection to a man who, though not a true blood relative and a somewhat distant man, is still the only grandfather I ever knew. A grandfather whom I am even named after. I remember him playing this ukulele while he sat around his cabin in the mountains. I remember how my mother loved to talk about the long car trips she and my dad took with him and his wife. Describing how he sat in the back seat, and played the ukulele for five hours, and never repeated a song. There is no price you can place on an object like that, bound to so much family memory.

I wonder what I will pass down to my kids. Money? (Not hardly.) A couple of nice musical instruments? (They don’t play.) A bunch of theology books? (Most will be outdated by the time I die.)

The Bible teaches that the greatest legacy I can pass down is the knowledge of God. That regardless of their own decisions, they will know that Jesus saved my soul from death and gave me new life. That he led me upon life’s journey. That I did everything I could to love and serve him.

If I don’t pass on a single earthly possession, but can pass that on, they will be rich in what matters.