We had a huge parsonage in my high school years. On the second level was a pull-down set of steps to the attic. One day I decided it needed to be explored and I found a beautiful pair of frames. They were solid oak with pewter trims. They were remnants of someone who had lived in the house.
When we moved to Mitchell we bought a classic old home with beamed ceilings and great woodwork. I was setting up my shop/tools in the basement and found a book stuck in the rafters. It was a “dirty book” and later I found another one tucked in the rafters of the garage. It was a remnant that I’m guessing the previous homeowner would not have want to be found.
So what are our remnants? What will be left that influences other’s lives?
I’ve found that I hold my hands in the same way as my grandfather. I catch myself not completing sentences like my father (which drives me crazy when HE does it). I’ve caught myself saying things my parents said that I swore I’d never say.
My mother is an avid reader and keeps a list of the incredible number of books she has read. My grandfather worked on bridge/road construction well into his 70’s and my dad is still actively preaching and teaching into his 80’s. Both parents create space in their lives for us and others. These are remnants that have influenced my life.
I hope I frame a remnant of care for my family. I hope I frame a remnant of seeing beyond the local, to people in other places or less fortunate situations. I hope I frame a remnant of humor. I hope I remember not to hide books anywhere.