I spy the name of the caller as the phone rings. I smile. It's a dear saint from another time, another place. Living her father's legacy.
For he always called on birthdays, a short and sweet conversation. You knew like clockwork that you'd hear from him on your special day. Hundreds of us were on the receiving end of his powerful gift ... a fervent prayer life that was second to none. And a phone call to let you know that you were dear to his hugely compassionate heart.
He is gone now, off to Glory, to Jesus, his hard-working farmer's body free from pain. And his daughter, no youngster herself anymore, calls from the old farmhouse. She continues the ministry her dad began over the phone lines those many decades ago.
We talk about health and aging family and old friends not well. She wants to hear about my daughters and grandchildren, and chuckles with thankfulness as I recount how her faithful prayers have been answered. She remembers an experience that our families shared that I had long ago forgotten. I pray for her and she prays for me.
And when all that decorates this milestone day is said and done, those six minutes invested by her, this legacy lavishly poured out on me, will remain something to be cherished.
I feel rich today. God is good.
- photo by antzzed -