This morning my normal YouTube daily devotion was nowhere to be found. Instead I read a chapter of Rebecca Barlow-Jones’ book, “Dayvotions for Grandmothers.” She reminisced about her grandmother and other grandmothers and what the children remembered of them after their death.
Memory is a wonderful thing when the memories are happy. There are two places in the Bible that spring to mind when somebody asked somebody else to remember them.
Joseph said to Pharaoh’s cupbearer as he was about to be reinstated in Pharaoh’s household, “But when all goes well with you, remember me and show me kindness; mention me to Pharaoh and get me out of this prison.” (Genesis 40:14 NIV)
The cupbearer forgot Joseph for more than two years. I don’t blame him. Who wants to remember the worst time of your life?
The other occasion is when the criminal crucified next to Jesus said, “Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”(Luke 23:42 NKJV)
Jesus’ gracious reply reverberates down history. “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke 23:43 NIV)
All of this got me to thinking. What will my grandchildren remember about me when I am gone?
I doubt that they will remember that I wrote a blog every day during lockdown or that I sewed thirty masks for the poor, or that I wrote a story every month for the writer’s circle. They probably won’t remember whether the house was clean or tidy as much as my reaction when they messed or untidied the house.
I hope they’ll remember doing science experiments with Granny, or making decoupage coasters for their Mom’s birthday during lockdown, when they couldn’t just go shopping with their father to choose something for her. I hope they’ll remember baking and getting to lick all the bowls and utensils before washing them (inexpertly) in the sink. I hope they’ll remember I loved Jesus and that He was the most important person in my life.
Children, remember me. I love you all very much.