WHAT MATTERS

 4222

I was just watching a program on TV which featured an interesting interview with Hillary Swank, a two time Oscar award winning actress. (I have watched her, “P.S. I Love You” several times).

The actress had not always had it so good, as she experienced a somewhat difficult childhood. It seems she was a “behind the tracks” sorta girl; having lived in a rundown trailer park. She told about the other children in her life who taunted her about her home, and looks, and lack of potential. Later, when she became a Hollywood actress some of those now grown children looked her in the face, and said, “I always believed in you.” To which she related she always responded, “No, you didn’t!”

During the TV segment the interviewer spoke to her about a three year hiatus she took from acting. When asked why she was inactive for such a long time, a decision which might have been a deal breaker for her, she responded.

“My father was in bad health, and I took it on myself to take care of him.”

(and)

“Yes, it was a very long time, perhaps longer than I expected.”

As the interview continued, the news person asked,

“But weren’t you concerned that your career might never be what it once was?”

To which Swank smiled a wry smile, and said,

“Honestly, that was the least of my concerns. I loved my father more than I loved my career.”

I think God must have smiled along with the actress, and rewarded her with the gift of life; since she and her husband experienced the birth of a baby when she had reached the advanced age of 49.

Sadly, her father didn’t live long enough to meet his grandchild, but Swank made it extraordinarily obvious that she had no regrets about having dedicated a third of a decade making his waning years a bit more comfortable.

by Bill McDonald, PhD

3 ANGELS

 4221

Pt. 1

In 1996 a precious little white Shih Tzu puppy wandered into our yard. While it is unlikely that she had been “chipped,” almost 30 years ago, I admit I didn’t “go out of the way” to discover her rightful owners. We simply took her in, and made her our own.

I don’t recall how we named her, but I know what we named her. And what we named her was contrary to her gender. We called her “Buddy.” However, in the context of my story, it is important to understand that our daughter, “Margie,” referred to her as “Angel.”

Buddy, (or Angel, as the case may be), experienced a malady which was common to her breed. She experienced allergies which could only be controlled by steroidal medication. Without the medication, she would have scratched her eyes out, (and, sadly, some have).

I have previously written several stories about Buddy. (As a matter of fact, I have written a book about two of our little dearly departed pooches, our little Angel Buddy, and a Corgi named “Lucy”). As a result, I will spare you an elaborate account of her life here.

However, whenever I write about Buddy, it is important for me to say the same thing I have said numerous times in the past. I believe Buddy fulfilled her mission here better than some people ever do.

When we first got her, and I, (I am sorry to say), kept her in the garage for a few days, we heard the door go up in the wee hours of the morning. Buddy began barking, and the door immediately went back down. I discovered some greasy footprints on the driveway the next day.

I suppose it was a couple years later, and our daughter was separated from her husband, and had moved in with my wife and me. As she was lying down one morning, our little pooch pitter pattered into the room, and jumped up into the bed.

At this point, I walked up to the door, and invited my little pooch to accompany me to the post office. Buddy ignored me. She had a task to fulfill.

Then, there was the time my wife was feeling like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. She confessed that as she lay in bed one afternoon, she almost literally felt like she was being pressed into the mattress. Interestingly enough, our little Buddy had been following her around the house for several days. As you might imagine, I urged her to go to the doctor. “Janice” contacted her physician, and he recommended a mammogram. The mammogram indicated a small malignant tumor that was in the process of permeating the duct. Thankfully, the tumor was detected in time, it was removed, and numerous radiation treatments followed.

Yes, our little Angel fulfilled her mission.

Pt. 2

In retrospect, it would appear our little Buddy’s life was shortened as the result of her allergy medication. For you see, rather than living 17 or 18 years, she was only granted 11.

Her condition deteriorated in the course of a week. And that last night, well, it seemed interminable.

My wife, an LPN, has told me that Buddy’s symptoms that night were reminiscent of human beings experiencing heart failure. My precious pooch always slept on a pillow at the end of my bed. On that last night on the last day of February 2006, she was all over the bed. Her breathing was erratic. Long, extended breaths, and, subsequently, extremely rapid breathing. Her tongue was a pasty white. I knew she was in the throes of death. My wife, who has seen many people go on to their reward asked me how I was able to stand it. I told her I simply could not not be there for her, as difficult as it was to be with her throughout that long, awful night.

The next morning our precious pooch was just barely hanging on. I had a couple of phone calls to make, and so I gently lifted our little Angel in my arms, walked into the living room, and laid her down in her doggie bed; just below the television.

Now, I stepped into the dining room, dialed a number on my flip phone, and chatted with, (coincidentally enough), a Dominican man named Angel. Finishing my phone call, I walked back into the living room to check on Buddy. She looked so peaceful lying there. Kneeling down, I could tell was no longer with us. In that short space of time that I was on the phone, her angel had come for her.

And the irony overwhelmed me.

I had been speaking to a man named Angel, when our little Angel was visited by her own personal angel.

I love the words of Psalm 36:6.

“The Lord preserves both mankind and animals alike.”

I am convinced that I will see our little Angel again.

by Bill McDonald, PhD

DEATH IN THE COLISEUM

 4220

Pt. 1

Atticus and Valentina lived in a large flat just outside of Rome; a few decades after the Christ was crucified and his disciples claimed He had risen from the dead. They had two children. Antonio was thirteen and Cecilia was nine.

Atticus was a stone mason and had recently been employed to help construct a vast amphitheater known as the Coliseum. He took jobs as they came along, and had prospered as the result of little or no advertising; except word of mouth. People told people about the quality of his work. Valentina was a stay at home mother.

Both Atticus and Valentina had been brought up in a culture which believed in many gods and goddesses, and in the manner which they impacted the daily lives of mortals. Every Roman household had a shrine, and prayer was the order of the day.

Whomever occupied the Roman throne was referred to as Caesar, and he was venerated as a God-like man. One’s allegiance to Caesar was analogous to one’s allegiance to the nation. Lately, the veneration of what Caesar claimed was a dead Christ had been problematic, and was thought of as sacrilege and treason.

The Apostles Paul and Peter had only just been executed in the previous five years, though Luke was still sharing the Gospel message in Greece, and had also had a profound effect on the people of Italy and the surrounding countries. Atticus had once been invited to hear Dr. Luke preach in one of the local churches that met in the catacombs. And though he realized his participation there was tantamount to treason, he felt compelled to investigate this so-called “gospel.”

As a pastor and theologian named John Wesley recounted in the past two centuries, when Atticus heard the Word of God, he “found his heart strangely warmed,” and, as a result, he prostrated himself before Dr. Luke, and acknowledged Christ as Lord, Savior and Messiah of his life.

Pt. 2

From that day forward, Atticus attended the church in the catacombs, and urged his wife to join him. And while Valentina was reticent to do so, and often reminded Atticus that the worship of what Christians claimed was the “one and only true God” bore a heavy penalty, she eventually relented, and on such and such a day, the entire family attended church together.

And as you might expect, after attending several worship services, and hearing the Word of God taught by Dr. Luke, and several other learned Gentile converts, Valentina followed Atticus’ example, and submitted herself to the Lordship of the God-man, Jesus Christ. Their children, Antonio and Cecilia, eventually followed their lead, and when they had an “open door,” the family members shared the Gospel message with their friends, and relatives. Of course, by now, Atticus had long since dragged his personal stone shrine to the polytheistic deities, which he had so often worshipped, into a nearby field, and had pounded it to dust with a sledge hammer. (Strange, he thought, how free he felt once he had disposed of this spiritual relic of the past).

However, as you might imagine and know to be true, Caesar was having none of these treasonous shenanigans, and he issued orders to his commissioned cohorts that believers in the Christ, and for that matter, believers in any other god, except those to whom Roman allegiance was due, should be arrested.

And sadly, it was not long before one of Atticus’ so-called friends, and who happened to be his chief apprentice in the stone cutting trade, reported him to the authorities.

Two days later, Atticus, Valentina, Antonio and Cecilia were arrested. By this time Antonio was 18 and Cecilia was 14.

Pt. 3

Father, mother, son and daughter were marched to the office, and ultimately the courtroom of the local magistrate, and tried in the space of an hour. The hapless family were denied an attorney, and sat together in a small barred enclosure, as the magistrate questioned Marcus, Atticus’ former apprentice and friend, concerning what he knew about the latter’s conversion experience and spiritual testimony. Ultimately, the judge cast his gaze towards Atticus and his family, and beginning with Valentina, asked each one of them two questions.

Are the facts your accuser has testified to true?

(and)

Are you, in fact, a believer in this Jewish imposter who claimed to be the Christ of God?

In turn, Valentina, Antonio and Cecelia, and finally Atticus acknowledged that Marcus had told the truth, and that they had invested their faith in the Christ. And Atticus took advantage of this open door to add,

“And your honor, some may refer to my Lord as an imposter, but we will all stand before Him one day, and give an account of the deeds we have done in our body, and whether we acknowledged Him as our Lord.”

As Atticus concluded his statement, the magistrate shouted,

“Enough! I find each and every one of you guilty of sedition and treason. I sentence you to death!”

Husband, wife, son and daughter were immediately led out of the courtroom, placed in a horse cart, and driven to a very familiar structure; the very amphitheater which Atticus had helped build several years before; that notorious edifice called the Coliseum.

Pt. 4

Now, father and son and mother and daughter were separated, and placed in holding cells with others of their gender and Christian persuasion. They had no allusions about what lay ahead of them. And since Roman so-called “justice” was swift, it would not be long before their fates would be sealed.

Several hours passed during which time Atticus had an opportunity to talk with several other prisoners. One, in particular, a man named Aurelius, was a non-believer who had been condemned to death for the murder of his neighbor. The two had argued about the repayment of a loan, and the argument had gotten out of hand. Aurelius had plunged his dagger into the man.

Not one to miss every opportunity, even at this late hour, Atticus shared the Gospel with Aurelius, and the murderer acknowledged Christ as Lord; with the full assurance that he would be with Jesus in the space of hours.

Now, the afternoon approached, and thousands of Roman citizens began to stream through the arched doorways of the Coliseum. Finally, Caesar made his appearance and took his place high above the crowds. As their illustrious leader found his appointed seat, the crowd stood and applauded and shouted his praises. Now, with the wave of his hand, the audience members sat down and prepared for the brutal contests and sacrilege which would play out before them.

The first act, as it were, included gladiators engaged in hand to hand combat with one another, and with beasts such as lions and tigers. Some members of the crowd, both men and women, swooned at the carnage, and had to be taken out of the amphitheater. Others cast their eyes downward. Still others turned their heads, and gagged.

Pt. 5

It was a custom to offer a commutation to Roman believers who would deny their faith, and it was in recognition of this custom that Atticus’ and Antonio’s and Valentina’s and Cecilia’s jailers provided them a final opportunity to relent, and to renounce their faith; prior to being transported to the arena.

Naturally, Antonio and Cecilia considered the unlived decades that stretched out before them, and the years they would be denied. And naturally, Atticus and Valentina trembled with the recognition that they were not only minutes away from the most hideous death a human being could experience, but the realization that their children were on the very threshold of the same grisly, painful fate.

The respective jailers spoke.

“Will you deny the man you call the Christ?”

(and)

“Will you acknowledge Caesar as your Lord?”

The family members, each in turn, shook their heads, and, along with the other condemned prisoners, were ushered to elevators which transported them to the ground floor of the Coliseum.

As Atticus and Antonio stepped off the elevator, they saw Valentina and Cecilia step out of another one. With this, the family members rushed towards one another, and huddled together in the center of the Coliseum.

Atticus could not help but take it all in. What still remained of the carnage of the earlier brutal contests, the colorful clothing among the thousands of spectators who filled the grandstands, Caesar and his entourage. “Odd,” he thought. “I helped build this massive amphitheater, and now my family and I are about to die here.”

Afterward

Now, two larger elevators opened on the north and south ends of the arena. And now, two men who stood on top of each elevator pulled up a heavy gate, and allowed several hungry lions to exit their enclosure; lions which had been purposely starved for just such a momentous day as this.

Now, the ravenous beasts rushed towards the dozens of innocent,  and not so innocent human beings, before them, thieves, and murderers, as well as Roman citizens who had invested their faith in the risen Lord.

With this, Atticus, Valentina, Antonio and Cecilia joined hands, and knelt together in the dust of the Coliseum. And now, Atticus spoke the last words he would ever speak on this side of glory. 

 “Remember, my dear family. God will give us grace to endure our last few moments on this side of glory. This is not our home. Heaven is our true Home. We will soon see Jesus.”

And as the ravenous beasts approached their prey, first one, and then another, and then another believer began to sing a well known song about the beauties of heaven, and the outstretched arms of their blessed Savior.

by William McDonald, PhD

 

VOICES FROM THE PAST

 4219

Pt. 1

As a boy who grew up in the 50's and 60's, my parents would drive me and my siblings to south Georgia to visit with my maternal grandparents for a week each summer. I always enjoyed those visits, especially the camaraderie and the FOOD.

My grandmother and Aunt Olline always laid out "a large spread" of food for every meal. At the time my Uncle Marion, and his sister in law, my Aunt Loretta worked in a factory a couple miles down the road from grandma's house on Stanley Street, and they would come home for lunch. I will always remember their conversations with my dad and mom at the table, as well as the contents of that table. Sliced ham, butter beans, mashed potatoes and home made biscuits. However, my favorite of all favorites was her creamed corn; often plucked and shucked from her own garden. 

However, as memorable as the delectable delights were, to which I have previously alluded, the most memorable and cherished thing about all our vacation meals was my grandfather's recurring prayer before we ate. Granddaddy Ring was not especially devout, (whereas, my grandmother assuredly was), but he would not think of beginning a meal without blessing it. I have never forgotten his words.

"Kind Heavenly Father, may we thank Thee for thy blessings. In Christ Name. Amen."

Pt. 2

I suppose I was ten or twelve when we were in the midst of one summer vacation when mama decided she wanted to drive over and visit with my granddad's brother, her Uncle Gordon; just a few miles down the road.

I remember "little or nothing" about the visit, although, I believe it was not only the first, but the only time I was ever around my great uncle; (with the exception of a possible family reunion).

However, the one thing I do recall is when Uncle Gordon said,

"Erma and Royce, step into my den. I want to show you something."

Now, I am under the impression that mama was very familiar with "the something" in her uncle's den, and had been for a very long time. Uncle Gordon had either forgotten mama knew about it, or he simply included both of us for dramatic effect. 

(In retrospect, I can tell you that what he had to show us merited a dramatic verbal entre)!

For you see, as we entered my uncle's den, I saw IT. Even though I was very young, and though the item was very old, I recognized what it was. 

An ancient record player.

To be sure, it was a 1903 Edison Amberola; similar to Edison's Victrola. Uncle Gordon walked over to the machine, lifted the lid, retrieved a vinyl cylinder from the cabinet upon which the player had been set, inserted the cylinder on the spindle, turned the crank numerous times, released a locking mechanism, and positioned the needle on the end of the cylinder.

Now, the most wondrous sound emanated from the device.

Pt. 3

"I'm Getting Ready for my Mother in Law"

My dear wife met me at the door, letter in her hand,
Said: mother soon will visit us--now isn't that just grand;
She says she'll stay about six months or longer if she can,
If she don't come I know I'll be a disappointed man:

[chorus]
I'm getting ready for my mother-in-law,
Getting ready for the fun,
When she puts her face inside the place
She'd better take it on the run,
If she should stay for just one day,
I can hear the church bells chime;
Oh! mother, mother, mother, mother mother,
You'll have a dandy time.

[verse 2]
I taught my bulldog how to bite, parrot how to swear,
I sawed the springs and legs and things from our best rocking chair;
sprinkled soap on the kitchen floor and polished it with fat,
If she falls down and breaks her neck, can I be blamed for that?

[repeat chorus]

[verse 3]
I fixed a little room for her
Without one window pane,
Turned on the steam
And fixed it so it won't turn off agin.
No pictures on the wall at all,
It looks just like a cell,
When she gets in bed,
She'll think that she is in hell.

(repeat chorus)

[verse 4]
Somebody wrote a song one time
Which made me awful mad,
The song said, everybody worked
Excepting poor old dad.
If he could see me now a days,
I know he'd change his tune,
I'm working like a truck horse now,
From morning, night till noon.

(repeat chorus)

[verse 5]
I'll take her to the Hippodrome,
Get seats right near the stage,
I want to be real sure that she
Is near the lion's cage.
I've heard of lions breaking loose,
Don't think that I'm a dunce,
But things like that are almost sure,
To happen more than once.

(repeat chorus)

[verse 6]
I'll hire an automobile,
This fact I told my wife,
She said, ain't you afraid something
Might happen mother's life?
Such questions make me sick,
I know that something must happen,
And happen mighty quick.

(repeat chorus)

[verse 7]
She'll want to visit Brooklyn Bridge,
But she'll get such a shock,
I'll fix it so we reach the bridge
Some night near six o'clock;
Each night from six to five,
And she can thank her lucky stars,
If she comes out alive.

(repeat chorus)

Pt. 4

My mother and I spoke about the Edison player a couple of times over the years, and she wondered aloud what had become of it. She admitted that she'd hoped that one day she might inherit the device. But since she wasn't her uncle's closest relative, it seemed increasingly doubtful with the passing of years.

I can tell you, the fleeting experience with the Amberola had a greater than usual impact on me, though as an adolescent my mind was on school, and athletics, and girls (did I say girls) at the time. 

It was only after my mother's death that I learned about the ultimate fate of the machine. At this writing, I don't recall how I found out which relative owned it; perhaps as the result of my relationship with that particular cousin on social media.

At any rate, "Elsa" (not her real name), made me aware that she hoped to sell the 1903 Edison Amberola. 

As you might imagine, it took me all of 23 seconds to express an interest, and inquire about the price. Well, I can tell you the "price was right," and Elsa and I decided to meet at my Aunt Olline's house in Valdosta to "seal the deal."

As I prepared to drive to Georgia, and I talked by phone one day with my aunt, she provided me a bit more background information of which I was completely unaware.

"You know your granddaddy owned the Amberola before Uncle Gordon did. He sold it to him."

(I can only presume her recollections were correct. She went on to her reward a few years ago)

Pt. 5

Well, on such and such a day, my wife and I got into our car, and drove the four point something hours which separated us from Valdosta. My Aunt Olline stepped out of the front door when she saw us pull into her driveway. It's "neither here nor there" at this juncture, but she didn't recognize us, (i.e. the last two sentences of the previous segment).

Be that as it may, when I reminded my aunt who my wife and I were, she smiled, excused her momentary mental lapse, and invited us into the house; the same home which my grandfather and grandmother once occupied.

A quarter hour later, my second cousin pulled into the driveway. As she stepped out of the car door, I introduced myself, hugged her, and she opened the trunk of her vehicle. Opening the truck, I "laid eyes" on that ancient Amberola for the second time; almost 60 years after my first encounter with the device!

Not only did I purchase that old Edison player for the agreed upon amount, (a fairly usual purchase price on Ebay), but my great uncle's homemade storage cabinet, and about 100 audio cylinders came with it. I was absolutely thrilled with my good fortune.

I can tell you that old audio cylinder "I'm Getting Ready for my Mother in Law" remains my favorite recording of the whole lot, although I have enjoyed listening to virtually all of the recordings, with titles such as, "My Best Girl and Me," "Dixie," and "Tell Mother I'll Be There."

That old 1903 Edison Amberola remains in excellent condition a century and a quarter after it was manufactured, and the disembodied voices of men and women who have long since gone on to their eternal rest remain crisp and clear.

by William McDonald, PhD

I'LL SHOW YOU A REAL GOOD TIME

 4218

My father had been displaying a great degree of lethargy during what turned out to be the last couple of years of his life; content to just sit in his recliner, and look out at the birds on the pond behind his mobile home. Once, when I was visiting in his home one day, daddy and I had jumped on his and mama's bicycles, and pedaled around the mobile home park. 

The closest I came to being overtly concerned about his mental acuity occurred that day. Several times during the course of our ride, my father would coast off the pavement, and into the grass. There was simply no common reason for him doing so. I recall saying something like, "Daddy, what's going on?" (and) "Stay on the street. You're gonna fall over, if you keep running into the grass."

However, it was only after my father fell, and hit his head on the dining room table, and I found him in bed the next afternoon that I took it on myself to insist he go to the emergency room.

As a result of a CT scan or MRI, as the case may be, it was determined that daddy had sustained a major stroke. He was transferred to the 7th floor of the local hospital; a floor primarily dedicated to the treatment of stroke victims. 

My father did a couple of things which were completely out of character for him; during the 8-10 days he was in residence there.  

He would get out of bed, and walk down the hallway, and occasionally the nurses would find him in other patients' rooms. As a result, the decision was made to immobilize daddy in his bed. Oh, they didn't shackle him with wrist and ankle cuffs. No, the decision was made to confine him to a, for lack of a better term, bed tent. Once, when I came up to visit, I recall finding him lying inside this weird fabric enclosure which had been zipped up, and buckled to his mattress.

The doctors and clinicians did an admirable job of intervening for my dad, and I had few, if any complaints about his treatment. One day, after I had been chatting with my father, a female speech therapist walked into the room, along with one of my dad's nurses.

"Mr. McDonald, we're going to put you in a wheelchair, and roll you into my office."

I suppose daddy nodded, and having been helped into a wheelchair, the nurse pushed him twenty feet down the hallway, turned the corner, and into a small office.

"Okay, Mr. McDonald. I'd like you to repeat these syllables and words as I say them to you."

As my mother and I looked on, he did a fairly admirable job of correctly pronouncing the syllables and words. Now, when the speech evaluation was nearing its conclusion, daddy did the second thing which I previously inferred was out of character.

He looked directly into the eyes of the speech therapist, grinned a slightly crooked little grin, and said...

"Honey, I want you to come see me when I get outta here. I'll show you a real good time!"

I almost fell out of my chair! However, to everyone's credit, neither I, nor mama, nor the therapist expressed surprise, nor did the second and third of the foregoing parties respond. 

But now, for no particular reason, I felt constrained to say something humorous. It had to do with daddy's and the therapist' respective ages, and his marital status. (But, I will spare you my exact words). Of course, we all realized my father's cognitive wherewithal was significantly challenged, and we "marked it off" for what it was. 

Daddy was released, went home, but found himself in a nursing home shortly thereafter. He lived just three more months.

Even in the midst of calamity, one has to appreciate those occasional humorous moments which serve to break up the difficulties of life.

by Bill McDonald, PhD

TALK TO YOUR WIFE

 4217

I laid down around 2am one night earlier in the week, and proceeded to dream one of those kind of dreams one tends to remember.

Too often, when I dream, (and I expect it is true of you), I awake and know that I have been dreaming, but can't recall the content of it, much less the general topic. However, this was one of those 20-30 percent of dreams which remained with me, and which I have not forgotten.

In my dream I found myself at a Sears Auto Repair shop, (not sure they still exist today), and as I walked up to the counter to pay my bill, the mechanic who was preparing to take my credit card said,

"You! You! You're the one who is having an affair with my wife!"

You could have knocked me down with a feather pillow!

I immediately thought,

"Not only am I not having an affair with your wife, I have never had an affair with anyone's wife!"

And after I collected my wits, I proceeded to say,

"No sir! You must have mistaken me for somebody else."

The mechanic calmed down at this point, and seemed open to reason. If he responded, I don't recall exactly what he said. However, given the sensitivity of the matter, I thought I would offer him a bit of advice.

"If you have jumped to conclusions about me, perhaps your suspicion of your wife is just as faulty. I would encourage you to go home and talk to her about this."

Apparently, this is the kind of dream us counselors dream. If I find myself giving people advice in my dreams, I must be in the right business.

Bill McDonald, PhD

HERITAGE, DESTINY, LEGACY

 4216

In order to be born you needed:

2 parents

4 grandparents

8 great grandparents

16 2x great grandparents

32 3x great grandparents

64 4x great grandparents

128 5x great grandparents

256 6x great grandparents

512 7x great grandparents

1,024 8x great grandparents

2,048 9x great grandparents

4,094 10x great grandparents

For you to be born today from 12 previous generations, you needed a total of 4,094 ancestors over the past 400 years.

And if you go back 33 generations, or about 1,500 years, we all have 1 billion direct ancestors (grandparents), and for each additional generation this number doubles. 

And to think this vast number of people have long since gone on to their reward, and they depend on you and me to continue living out the life they have bequeathed to us. We are currently the only hands, and feet and voice they have left to them. 

Think for a moment about how many struggles, how many battles, how much sadness, happiness, love stories, and hope for the future your ancestors experienced for you to exist in the present moment. We are the dream of those who went before us.

Not only so, but you and I will one day take our place alongside our ancestors. As a result, I pray for my unborn, unseen, unknown, unnamed descendants that God will bless, encourage and help them, and use them to impact their generation. 

The foregoing sums up my favorite three words: Heritage, Destiny, Legacy. We receive a Heritage. We fulfill a Destiny. We leave a Legacy.

by William McDonald, PhD & info from internet post