An Ode to My Parents

It is high time that I write a post to honour two of the most important people in my life. No it isn't officially Father's or Mother's Day, but this topic has come to me because of the trail I have been observing over the last few weeks.

You see, I have been living in the land where I grew up - the land where many people know my parents and henceforth know me. But it is good, because I keep stumbling upon people that are happy to see me because of what my parents meant to them. 

As long as I can remember, my father has been the kind of person that noticed people who needed help. He never was loud about it or did it for praise, but his trail is beginning to show. As I travel around, I keep meeting people who were touched by his kindness in some way - the group of bachelors who used to end up at our table Sunday after Sunday because he invited them, the middle-aged man who needed help with his finances, the desperate woman who found shelter in our house during a troubled period of her life, and the list goes on. I have forgotten many of them until I see the results - thankful eyes, restored lives, people with hope again, and people who pass it on to others. I see a legacy. One that is imperfect, because yes that sort of life was not always easy for him or us as his family, but I believe that we as children will always be grateful for his example, and carry it on in various ways in our own lives.

And then there is my Mom. Were it not for her, that type of life would never have been possible. She could have shut the door on people, refused to make extra potatoes on those Sundays, or insisted on having her own friends over. Instead she graciously gave, graciously accepted, and graciously blessed. I have seen her put up with difficult situations with the patience of Job and the kindness of Jesus many times over. She loves what some people would call the unlovable and forgives what some people would call the unforgivable. She also is a friend to those who need help. I remember the woman who got off the bus at the end of our lane to spend the day when her life was bound tightly in the grips of OCD. I remember the mentally handicapped woman who would come to wash dishes and make puzzles because of Mom's kind heart. I have had friends tell me that they remember our home as a place where they were always welcome.  I know they walked into an uncleaned kitchen or bathroom at times, but the door was always open and food available.

The result of this has been a pair of people that have impacted a large number of souls. Their lives have not been easy and I have seen them walk through storms that could have torn their marriage and even faith apart. But they held fast, and I am honoured to be the daughter of parents who have kept the faith and followed Jesus' heart in so many ways. They are far from perfect, but they love and give well.

Today they continue - faithful every day. Their door still swings both ways, there is still food in the pantry as needed, my dad's finances are still the Lord's, my mother still gives food out of both hands where possible, and anyone who needs help knows where to go for it. 

Their legacy continues to grow as they keep serving whoever God brings into their path. I think about legacy and wonder what I will leave behind. What will people see when I leave a place? What will they hear about? What will I have spent my time on? Life is so short. Only what's done for Jesus will really matter and last. ❤️