When you die, and you’re hovering nearby in the space between the roses surrounding your casket and the ceiling of the church, (assuming you’re into that kind of thing–humor me) will you be happy to see who attends your service? Will you like the music they select as a tribute to your life? Will you blanch at the silly stories friends relate that show your zest for life and your unselfish tendency to poke fun at yourself?
We attended a class once as a young married when the teacher passed out paper tombstones and had each of us complete what we would like for our own tombstones to say once we had passed on. There were the requisite silly ones like “Told you I was sick” and “Here lies Eleanor. She lies…no more.” But then there were a few who took the assignment seriously and recorded what they really hoped to see. The lesson was a Bible study with the thoughtful intent to have each of us consider how we were to live so that our descendants would be able to say positive things about our outcome.
I thought at length back then about what I would like to see as the outcome of my life. Now that I’m in my sixties, I think that my goal, my wish at that early date still stands today. I had written on my paper tombstone, “She prayed. And her children know the Lord.”
I think that’s enough.