You're the Only You Who Will Ever Be

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You’re one of a few who will ever have the exact combination of genes which you possess, (or the only one, if you happen to be an only child). And if you happen to have one or more siblings, you’re the only one of the bunch with the exact number of hairs which you have on your head at this present moment. 

It almost goes without saying that you’re the only person on the earth, among perhaps 20 billion who are currently living, or who have ever lived with the exact configuration of fingerprints on those ten digits at the end of your wrists. And though you may have never thought about it, you’re the only one among those same 20 billion who ever experienced the same combination of experiences which you have experienced during the course of your lifetime.

You, my friend, are an amazing work of art. You are one of a kind.

(Yes, you are)!

It has often occurred to me that when you and I pass off the earth, we will have lost any hope or opportunity to “leave something behind.” What we do, we have to do now. Tomorrow, that “great ‘gettin’ up morning” kind of tomorrow, will be one day too late.

I am in the process of leaving something behind, and I highly recommend this possibility to you.

I look into the unblinking, unyielding eyes of my great grandparents, and they stare back at me from behind a glass frame, and nothing about who they were, what they believed, how they lived, who they knew, or what they experienced is revealed to me. Their voices have been muted. 

But as long as we live, and move, and breathe there is still time to correct the sort of inadequacy of which they, to my own detriment, have been guilty. 

My father set the standard for me. Though he is gone now, while he still had the momentary wherewithal, he involved himself in leaving something behind. (And I dare say, he did a superb job of it). 

My father was a landscape painter par excellence. I suppose he painted hundreds of living room wall-sized canvasses in the course of twenty years, and several of them adorn the walls of my own home.

Time and space would fail me in my effort to boast of all my father left behind. For he also devoted himself to researching his family surname, and left behind a genealogical album chuck full of hard-earned manual research and photographs; an album which he duplicated for numerous family members. (And which, no doubt, will be treasured, and passed down among their own separate family lines).

Best of all, I think, my father left behind several audio tapes on which he narrated numerous stories and experiences from his childhood and adolescence. As a steward of those stories, I have been careful to not only transfer the audio tapes to cassette disks, but I’ve also took the time to transcribe his stories to a written format.

Leaving something behind. 

I am doing something very similar to that which my father did before me. I have accumulated a great deal of family research and have committed it to print, and to e-storage. And having been blessed with “the gift of gab,” I have written numerous currently unpublished volumes, including a multi-volume autobiography, a couple of devotionals, and daily diaries which I intend to leave in the hands of each of my children; (with the admonition that they, in turn, pass my materials down to their children). And perhaps the most poignant in my attempt to somehow live on in the hearts and minds of my descendants, I have accumulated dozens of cd’s containing recordings of songs which I have sang in my local church.

I simply refuse to emulate the hundreds of my ancestors who have gone on before me who left nothing behind. I am not content to omit what they omitted.

But lest you jump to the wrong conclusion, I understand that many of my readers lack the natural wherewithal, inclination or time to do as I have done, and which my father did before me.

But you can do something. 

Let me encourage you to sit down with a blank journal or behind a computer keyboard, and begin to write. It doesn’t have to be exhaustive or elaborate. Jot down an experience, a story, an insight or realization now and then. And make arrangements to leave these materials with a trusted family member; that they may do likewise.

Leaving something behind.

And in so doing, you guarantee yourself the wherewithal to speak to generations who never knew you, and who, otherwise, would never had the opportunity of knowing you.

Following is a message which I have written to my descendants, and which I hope many of them will take time to read:

“I have so often looked at those large old family photos; pictures of my great grandfather and great grandmother. The edges of the celluloid backing is curling now, the tint of their flesh still maintains its artificial color, their lips are tight and unsmiling, their eyes are devoid of light, and they stare blankly into space.

I have wondered if they ever thought of me, or if they took time out of their busy schedule to pray for me. Few, if any, (though to be fair, there have been a few) have bothered to leave a message behind; words which served as an entre into their lives, an understanding of who they were, what they believed, whom they loved, what they did, with whom they practiced the fine art of impact.

Well, though by the time you read these pages I may have gone on to my reward, (or lack thereof) dear grandchildren, I can tell you I have, I do, and I will continue to pray for you; as long as I continue to breathe in and out. Though at this writing, you are not yet a twinkle, your existence on this earth is inevitable, and God knew the plans He had for you before He made the worlds.

So if by chance you one day have the opportunity to gaze upon a caricature of my own features, as I have had the opportunity to look into a portrait of my ancestors’ features, never doubt that I looked forward to your appearance on this earth, cared for you, prayed for you, and loved you with an everlasting love.

Granddad 

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "Concepts, Teachings, Practicalities & Stories" Copyright pending

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**If you would like to see the titles and access hundreds of my blogs from 2015, do the following:

Click on 2015 in the index to the right of this blog. When my December 31st blog "The Shot Must Choose You" appears, click on the title. All my blog titles for 2015 will appear in the index.