THE ONLY REASON MY ANCESTORS EVER LIVED

Sometime during the past few months, I ran across a phrase that really registered with me.

“At this point in time, you are the only reason your ancestors ever lived.”

Of course, this is not to denigrate the lives and impact of literally billions of people in my direct lineage, whom I refer to as my great grandparents, (because they were), and the notion that some among them may have even prayed for me; eons before I lived and breathed and moved on the earth.

However, each and every one of those multiplied billions of men and women had their “go at it,” and good, bad or indifferent the majority of them have been… forgotten; (since the people who possessed any wherewithal to remember them have also gone the way of all flesh).

Scripture assures us that, “It is appointed unto man once to die.”

Thanks to our original great great great grandparents, (Adam and Eve) and the irrevocable choices they made, we simply can’t stay here. They say the only two things which are certain are death and taxes. While I suppose you could take up residence on a desert island, and avoid the latter of the two possibilities, you simply aren’t going to avoid the former of the two.

“At this point in time, you are the only reason your ancestors ever lived.”

Rather stark and in your face. I am the only reason my ancestors ever lived. You are the only reason your ancestors ever lived.

Pt. 2

I have often reflected on one particular scene in the movie, “Dead Poet’s Society.”

“Mr. Keating,” a teacher at a private boy’s school, (who seems to have a knack for offering his students insightful tidbits, while using everyday objects and themes) leads his boys down the stairs from the classroom, and into the lobby of the institution.

The young professor walks towards a couple of trophy cases, and instructs his pupils to gather about him.

“Now I would like you to step over here, and peruse some of the faces of boys who attended this school a century and more ago. You've walked past them many times. I don't think you've really looked at them. Oh, different clothing and different haircuts. But they're not that different from you, are they? Full of hormones. Just like you. Invincible. Just like you think you are. The world is their oyster. They believe they're destined for great things; just like many of you. Their eyes are full of hope. Just like you.”

Mr. Keating’s boys are “all ears” by this point in his monologue. They know something of some value must be coming.

Pt. 3

And with the assurance of someone wiser than his years, the teacher continues.

“Did these young men in the photographs wait until it was too late to make of their lives even one iota of what they had dreamed, and what they were capable? Because you see gentlemen, these boys are long past accomplishing anything at all; since they are now resting beneath the daffodils. But if you listen closely, you can hear them whisper their legacy to you. Go on. Lean in. Listen. Do you hear it? (whispering in a gruff voice) ‘Carpe.’ Hear it? (whispering) ‘Carpe. Carpe Diem.’

…Seize the day boys. Make your lives extraordinary!”

And I think we have the privilege, opportunity, and obligation to do this.

…To make our own lives extraordinary.

To discover the best within us. To find out that one thing which separates us from the rest. To develop that talent, that gift, that interest, which almost begs for a forum, and to hone it to a razor’s edge. To, as ‘Mr. Keating’ admonishes us, make our lives extraordinary.

The time is swiftly approaching when you and I must “lay it all down” as those who proceeded us have done. Those who have gone before us can no longer make the inestimable difference of which we are capable. I think our grandparents are depending on us, as those who went before them depended on them.

At this point in time, you and I are the only reason our ancestors ever lived. It is imperative that we intervene in the lives of those whom God has set in our pathway before we, like they, become someone’s fading memory, and we bequeath our ability to intervene in the lives of others to those who follow in our footsteps.

William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 85. Copyright pending

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