HEIRLOOMS OF THE HEART...
My husband has been building our 21-month-old grandson a rocking horse for Christmas. The project took several hours in a freezing garage, but he loved every minute of it, for it was a labor of love. And let me tell you, it is a WORK OF ART, absolutely BREATHTAKINGLY BEAUTIFUL, from the handmade tail and mane to the leather saddle; from the engraved brass plate on the platform to the several layers of shiny stain. (I'm going to attempt to post some pictures of the horse up here so you can see what I'm talking about.) Anyway, it is so well-built that it will be an heirloom, passing down from one generation to the next, I'm certain of it. In fact, I envision it holding our great grandchildren someday, and perhaps our great-great -- who knows? Regardless, it will be rocking some precious little loved one long after we are but a faded memory, a photograph on someone's wall.
Heirlooms. They are priceless treasures, the sort of things that live on, that remind us of what once was and sometimes what will be. They can be material possessions or something as simple as a quilt, a journal, a Bible, or a baby's christening gown. Perhaps someone's yellowed wedding gown lay neatly folded in one of your bottom drawers. (My daughter has my 95-year-old mother's gown, which was far too small for either of my daugthers or me to wear.)
This rocking horse has got me to thinking. What other heirlooms are we passing down? I'm not talking about "things" that might be considered treasures by anyone's standards, though; I'm talking about heirlooms of the heart--the kind that help build character, point our children and our children's children in the right direction, the kind that teach them the truly important things in life.
It is our deepest, heartfelt prayer that our example of faith and trust in a loving God will continue on for generations to come, that as our family grows and marries and multiplies, we won't be remembered strictly for the rocking horses, or the homemade cookies and cakes, or the games we played, or the laughter we shared--but for the Christ who lived in and through us.
That is our prayer. That is the kind of heirloom that lasts into eternity.
