12: changing the legacy you leave

We will be known forever by the tracks we leave.

ANONYMOUS

HERE WE ARE, AT THE END OF our journey with you, hoping that you have found something valuable in these pages. We tried to ask relevant questions, suggest helpful exercises, tie in Scripture, and tell relatable stories—information and insights to make life less momplicated for you. We are certain you have worked hard; maybe you had to take breaks every so often to catch your breath or dry your eyes. Maybe there were times you stopped and didn’t think you’d finish. The truth is, after you read the last word in this book, your real journey begins.

The stories of our lives unfold as we walk down our own paths. Since the moment you were conceived, your mother has shaped you. Her love or inability to love is woven into the fabric that defines who you have become. Regardless of how we as daughters began our journeys, one thing is certain: We, too, are adding texture and meaning to the fabric of the lives that come after us. We are difference makers in the lives of our daughters, granddaughters, stepdaughters, nieces, and others, and the differences we make will go on for eternity. Whether we have biological children or not, we all leave a legacy.

Who will teach the next generation how to heal? How to hope? How to love? How to be a woman of integrity and faith? We will. And we will do it not only with words but with the very essence of who we have become as God’s daughters. Remember, we are leaving heartprints—our unique stamp on everyone we encounter. Healing isn’t just for us. It’s for those who follow us.

Do others see the love of God in us? Have they experienced him in our choices to love, accept, and forgive? How we love, how we hope, and how we live our lives are the very things that we pass on. We are not expected to be perfect, but rather imperfect women who look to God. Sally Clarkson, in her book Own Your Life, described the significance of a mother’s impact:

Mothers, I came to believe, were God’s finest idea for how such a righteous legacy would be passed on in each generation. They were designed by Him to influence the hearts of children within the sanctuary of their own homes and to help shape them into the next generation of godly leaders. Mothers have the capacity to inspire messages of truth and hope, to model love and servant leadership, to build mental and academic strength by overseeing the education of their children, to lead in faith, and to build a haven of all that is good, true, and beautiful.[29]

The goal of this book has been to lead us to a point where we can stand in the truth of our restored lives, regardless of our pasts. When we do this, we experience increasing freedom in Christ. It is this freedom that we pass on now, this grace and truth that we hold out to our children and their children. We are women who have been hurt or even completely broken, but despite it all, we have never been abandoned by God. This is a new day. We are giving future generations a new place to stand.

When we lean on God and walk in truth, we break the bondage of what might have been a long line of generational dysfunction. We change the legacy we leave by changing the only thing we can—ourselves.

We are intricately involved in the process of shaping destiny:

Whoever sows a thought, reaps an action;

Whoever sows an action, reaps a habit;

Whoever sows a habit, reaps a lifestyle;

Whoever sows a lifestyle, reaps a destiny.[30]

Each of us stands at a pivotal point in our personal histories. Our smallest choices lead us either toward God or away from him, toward love and truth or away from them. Every choice we make is like a pebble thrown into a lake that sends ripples out in all directions. What is the ripple effect of your life?

WE CAN BE THE TRANSITION GENERATION

Several years ago, I (Joan) traveled with my sister, Annie, to our grandmother’s hometown to visit the site where our grandmother, mother, and aunt were buried. It was a drizzly, overcast day when Annie and I picked our way through the mud to the far corner of the garden next to our grandmother’s church. There, engraved on a low stone wall, we found the dirt-streaked names of the three women who had been so important to us—the matriarchy that had raised us.

As we stood there, a memory flashed into my mind. I was sitting at my grandmother’s kitchen table eating Wheat Chex and grapefruit when she suddenly announced, “I’ve bought a small plot where my ashes can be buried. It’s in a nice shady corner of the church garden. I also bought two extra spots for anyone else in our family who might want to use them.”

I had been an oblivious teenager back then, and now I wished I could go back and spend one more night at her house and eat one more breakfast with her. I would tell her how much I loved her and how important she was to me. I would treasure her every word and ask her to tell me more about herself.

I shared those thoughts with Annie, and we stood silently, engulfed in our sadness as we missed all three of them.

The quiet was broken by Annie’s words: “Will you pray?” Her request caught me by surprise since she had always described herself as “not religious.”

I took both her hands and prayed out loud, thanking God for our grandmother, mother, and aunt, and all they had poured into our lives. I thanked him for how much they each had loved us in their best-that-they-could-do ways. I knew that more than anything, they would have wanted us and our children to have good, blessed lives—lives that were even better than theirs had been. I knew that there would have been no better way to honor them.

The words of one of my graduate school professors came to mind. She would often say to us, “You can be the transition generation.” So that is what I prayed.

“God, please let Annie and me be the transition generation—the generation that stops the negative trends in our family and starts positive ones. Let this prayer today be a spiritual line in the sand. Let it divide the past from the future. Give us the power to change things for the better.”

Annie joined me, and we went back and forth, speaking our requests as they entered our minds.

“God, help us talk about things instead of burying our heads in the sand and staying stuck. Please let us and our children acknowledge our hurts so they can be healed.”

“The women who are buried here all experienced abandonment or unfaithfulness in their marriages. Let future marriages in our family line be faithful, loving, and long-lasting.”

“God, the women in our family have tended to give up and accept defeat in many circumstances. We ask for courage so that we and our children can be fighters who persevere and overcome the things that stand in our way.”

And on it went . . .

I have seen answers to many of those prayers since that day. Fifteen years later, Annie received a cancer diagnosis and was told she had only three to six months to live. She responded with courage and strength and became all the more true to who she wanted to be. She never buried her head in the sand. Instead, she encouraged friends and family to talk openly about their feelings, and she did the same with them. She died with no unfinished business. I have no doubt she made her peace with God.

Like Annie and me, my daughters are deeply committed to authenticity and growth. Now that they are adults, we are companions on this healing journey, often laughing about the less-than-perfect ways I raised them or talking about the dysfunctional patterns we share. Whether it be how we relate to men, or body image issues, or the pressure to achieve, our conversations usually help us all grow in understanding and closeness. We are still far from perfect, but I’m grateful that my healing, even at this late stage, helps them. This note from one of my daughters is on my refrigerator:

Happy Mother’s Day, Momma!! I want to be just like you when I grow up. Thank you for being my biggest supporter, always a phone call away, the all-around best mom—always willing to grow, change, and laugh. I love you more than all the stars in the sky!

That message blesses me more than I can say. My mom did the best she could. So did I. None of us is perfect, but we can move beyond our pasts into a better future—one of hope and healing. Our wounds truly are the windows through which God’s light can shine.

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Perhaps you have a different story and have been rejected by your own daughter (or someone who is like a daughter to you). Maybe you wish she would invite you to lunch, respect you for the wisdom of your years, or thank you for the love you have poured into her. You long to leave a positive legacy, but for now at least, it is out of your hands.

We would like to remind you of three things:

  1. One of the best things you can do for those who come after you is to heal yourself.
  2. Apply the Serenity Prayer exercise from chapter 11 to find wisdom for how to proceed.
  3. Remember that your story is not over yet.

LIVE LIKE IT’S REAL

Like Joan, I (Debbie) know that my mother had a good heart and did all she could with what she had. Unlike Joan, I never knew my grandparents and wasn’t close to any of my aunts. My female influence and modeling came mostly from my mother, and all I learned about our family came from the stories she told me of alcoholism and tension between siblings. All of these things shaped me, because all of these things shaped my mother. And though there were years of pain between my mother and me, the last years were rich with love. In the end, the woman who hurt me the most left me the greatest legacy.

My sister and I, with the help of hospice workers, cared for our mother until the end of her life. Early one Monday morning, after weeks of a steady decline, the hospice nurse encouraged me to talk to my mom about letting go. As hard as it was to tell her we would be all right, I knew it needed to be done.

“Mom, we are at peace with your leaving us. It’s okay.”

She searched my face, waiting for me to say more. After a few moments of silence, she defiantly said, “Well, I’m not going anywhere without you and the boys!”

She had a special bond with her grandsons from living with our family all those years, and the love was mutual. I paused, thinking about how she was present, oxygen tank and all, at every Little League game that my boys played. When my older son got his license, he’d drive my mom to the mall to get her hair done, escorting her in her wheelchair. We would certainly miss her.

Taking a breath of courage, I leaned in a little closer. “Mom, it’s your time to go, not ours.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m going alone, and I just hope everything we believe in is real.”

The look of fear in her eyes broke my heart. Although she was a Christian, she was clearly afraid to die, so I began to pray that God would bring her peace in a real way.

She slept most of the week until Friday morning. My sister, Sharon, called to tell me I should visit Mom earlier rather than later, so I rushed across town to Sharon’s house and climbed the stairs to Mom’s room. The minute she saw me, she smiled—the biggest smile I had ever seen on her face.

“Debbie, it’s so fancy there!” she exclaimed with childlike excitement. I had never heard her use the word fancy before.

“Where, Mom?” I asked, quickly making my way to her side.

“Sit down, and I will tell you all about it.” As I sat next to her, she began to describe the angels she had seen and other glimpses of heaven. “There are emeralds as big as boulders, and the streets shine like glass.” She was most intrigued that there seemed to be “appointment times” for each of us to get in. For the next half hour, she “painted” a picture of heaven for me. Her mind was sharp and clear as she filled in detail after detail.

The nurse, who was sitting in the corner of the room with tears in her eyes, whispered to me, “She’s not on any meds. These are not hallucinations—this is real!”

When Mom was done pouring her story out to me, she made a quick shift. “I’m ready to go!” she declared. Just like that—from fear to faith—she was ready!

I marveled that this was the same woman who, days earlier, wasn’t going anywhere without me and the boys, and now she seemed excited to go. With urgency she said, “Go get the boys. I want to say good-bye.”

I phoned my sons, waking them up on a lazy summer morning, telling them to be ready to jump in the car when I got home. My mind was an emotional blur, but I did my best to explain to them what had just happened. The three of us arrived and gathered in her room.

Like me, my two boys love to sing, and Mom loved to hear us. She asked us to sing her favorite worship song, “Beautiful,” one last time. As we sang, I noticed her smiling and nodding as if she were acknowledging others around the room.

When we finished, she said, “Oh, you sound so much more beautiful with the angels.”

Justin, my oldest, said, “Grandma, it’s just us here.”

“Oh no, this room is filled with angels.”

She motioned for him to come closer. “Justin, you have always been Grandma’s big blond boy. I have never wanted to leave you. But you know those angels that it talks about in the Bible? They’re real. I’ve seen them, so I don’t have to worry anymore. You’re safe. Just promise Grandma one last thing before I go . . .”

My son could barely get the words out between his sobs. “Anything, Grandma, anything.”

“Justin, live like it’s real . . . because it is.”

He hugged her gently as his brother, Cameron, slipped in next to her. “Cameron, you are such a good boy, and Grandma doesn’t want to leave you. But now I know there are angels who will watch over you. Promise me one thing before I go.”

He made the same promise that Justin did. “Anything, Grandma, anything!”

“Cameron, live like it’s real . . . because it is.”

The boys huddled in the corner together crying, and she motioned for me to come.

I could see Mom was getting tired. She pulled on my collar, bringing my face right up to hers. Her faded brown eyes looked stern and serious.

“Debra . . .”

Uh-oh. She only called me Debra when I was in trouble.

“Debra, live like it’s real . . . because it is.”

I was weeping so hard that I couldn’t speak, but I managed to nod.

She had one last charge. “And those women you speak to? Tell them to spend their lives living like it’s real.”

There was no final “I love you” from my mother, but I received a greater gift in those four words: “Live Like It’s Real.”[31]

Those words gave me a new lens with which to view life. Though I miss her more than I could have ever imagined, I remember her by keeping the promise I made at her bedside. I close every one of my speaking engagements with the last words she spoke. With our hurts behind us and eternity in front of us, we were just two imperfect women who longed for God in our everyday lives. My mother left me a charge, and now I leave it wherever I go as well.

How do we live like it’s real? By looking up and embracing a story much bigger than us. By staying in the truth, connecting to God daily, and asking the Spirit of God to have his way in us. How do we pass it on? By walking it out, as imperfect women, loving others through the perfect love of the almighty God. As I write these words, I think of the trail I will leave, lovingly picturing the little girls and women in my family now—my granddaughters, stepdaughters, daughters-in-law, and nieces. I want them to live out of whole hearts, believing that the truest thing about themselves is that they are loved by God.

Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.

DEUTERONOMY 6:5-9, NIV

God’s Word is to be

THE BIGGER STORY

As you have discovered the areas where you may have been hurt by your mother, hold on to the hope that whatever was lacking in your mother can be found in a loving God. In chapters 5 through 8, we looked at four needs that a mother ideally will fill for her daughter. Let’s look at how God meets those needs for you:

Jesus knows our mothers did not always meet our needs, and he longs to fills those empty places in our hearts—so that we can be made whole and so that we can share that richness with others. When we fear and serve the Lord, we lack nothing (see Psalm 34:9). We are given everything we need to live a life that leaves a legacy to all who know us.

By his divine power, God has given us everything we need for living a godly life.

2 PETER 1:3

Where will you go from here? Will you continue to acknowledge the reality of your momplicated past? Will you invite God into the broken places so that you can live from your Spirit-led self? Will you do your part to have the best possible current relationship with your mom? We hope you will join us in our heartfelt prayer—that at the end of our lives we will be able to say,

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, and I have remained faithful. And now the prize awaits me—the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give me on the day of his return.

2 TIMOTHY 4:7-8

Explore Your Story

  1. What bad habits or negative patterns have been passed down to you that you do not want to pass down to another generation? Pray over each issue, asking God to stop the hurt and dysfunction from continuing through you. Ask God to use you as a “transition generation,” so that through you, a new cycle of healing and wholeness will begin in your family.
  2. Write a letter to those you have parented, especially your daughters, telling them the things you want them to know and remember when you are gone. You may want to acknowledge and apologize for ways you now realize you have wounded them. You may want to highlight generational patterns that you hope they will partner with you to change.
  3. Write your own eulogy. How do you want to be remembered? What would you like people to say about you after you die?
  4. How would your words and actions change if you began to “live like it’s real”?

Connect with God

Lord God, you have been with me since my first breath, and you will be with me when I take my last. Throughout my life, I have been shaped by hurtful messages, but you will never fail to love imperfect me. Today I stand on the promise of your Word, that what you have begun in me will be completed. Your work will be done in and through me, and when I meet you face-to-face, I pray you will say to me, “Well done, daughter. You have been a good and faithful servant.” I believe this is possible because of your power and grace. I now receive healing to live beyond any mother wounds I have experienced. I will be a woman who walks in love until the day I die. I will be a woman who lives like your love is real, your Word is truth, and there is more than just this life. Thank you for empowering me to pass on love to those who come after me. I pray for all the people whose lives I touch, that the love of Jesus will go deep within their hearts and be lived bravely through their lives. Amen.