I wrote a guest post for a blogger friend with a sweet heart. She’s starting a series on living a life that leaves a legacy. Read what I wrote but then continue reading the series she’s started!
Photo credit and written by Audrey Jackson
I can still remember the way my mother’s mentor used to touch my arm—her gentle silence saying more than words could possibly convey. Her hands were soft, wrinkled, and worn. They were hands that had rocked babies and bandaged wounds and wiped away tears. Her hands had rolled out biscuit dough and folded hundreds of baskets of laundry and had taught children how to read. They were hands that had carried casseroles to potlucks and set up chairs in a warehouse when we decided to plant a church.
She bore the scars and callouses and burns of selfless motherhood and ministry.
And yet, they were always extended. Always ready to physically show grace and love and compassion.
And several years ago, when she passed, this is what I remembered. This is the legacy that she left.
Recently, I’ve been thinking about how…
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