If you live long enough, your life is bound to stand for something. Even without any conscious thought, the consistent patterns that repeat themselves throughout a lifetime point to the things we truly value and expose the content of our character. They ultimately create the subtext of our story, which could rightfully be considered our legacy. Those of us given the privilege of reaching old age frequently get the opportunity to consider the legacies of those who came before us, which quite naturally encourages the consideration of our own.
There are some who seem to be driven by their desire to cultivate a specific legacy, seeking out opportunities to prove themselves and to frame the narrative of how they might be remembered. Unwittingly, that drive can actually work against them, and undermine the story they hope to tell.
An example of this would be those who wish to be remembered as “successful” or as a “winner”. While they may spend their lives accumulating accomplishments and leave behind trophy cases of awards and accolades, that only tells a part of their story. If the cost of achieving such things was meaningful relationships, and/or if their need to win caused them to treat people like pawns in a lifelong chess tournament, that will likely become the bigger story. The record books may acknowledge them as a “winner”, but they will be remembered for being ruthless and uncaring.
In the end, we don’t get to write our own legacy. It is ultimately defined by those we leave behind. In many ways it is the foundation we’ve established for them to build upon (or teardown), and the mark we’ve made on their hearts. If our life was nothing more than an endless pursuit of our own happiness, it seems doubtful that anyone would take the time to consider what it meant. Indeed, a life consumed with self is the emptiest existence one could choose. If we could grasp this concept early in life, it might drastically alter our value system, thereby rewriting the subtext of our story.
I’ve frequently taught my children that at the end of this life there will only be two things that really matter. One is “who you loved,” and the other is “who loved you!” When you’re lying on your deathbed, your money, your diplomas, your gold medals, your Oscars, your Nobel Prizes… won’t be of any consolation. In that moment, all the stuff that once seemed so valuable becomes meaningless, as we realize that only those things rooted in faith, hope and love can pass over the threshold with us.
It is in such moments that many a rich man discovers his poverty, and that many a poor man discovers the riches of a life well lived.
Today, as my dear brother Thomas lives out the final moments of his story, he is surrounded by people who he deeply loves, and who deeply love him. People who he has invested his heart in, and who cherish the moments they’ve had together. Though my brother has many other accomplishments, and things he could be admired for, these are the only things that matter today. As he stands on the threshold of eternity, he can look back into the loving eyes of those whose lives have been touched by his, and he can look ahead, into the loving eyes of the Father who awaits his embrace.
I can’t imagine a better way to end one’s story.
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Bjcorbin's Blog 
Legacy
Posted in Commentaries, tagged accolades, accomplishments, awards, faith, hope, legacy, lives touched, love, remembered, trophies on March 8, 2025| 1 Comment »
If you live long enough, your life is bound to stand for something. Even without any conscious thought, the consistent patterns that repeat themselves throughout a lifetime point to the things we truly value and expose the content of our character. They ultimately create the subtext of our story, which could rightfully be considered our legacy. Those of us given the privilege of reaching old age frequently get the opportunity to consider the legacies of those who came before us, which quite naturally encourages the consideration of our own.
There are some who seem to be driven by their desire to cultivate a specific legacy, seeking out opportunities to prove themselves and to frame the narrative of how they might be remembered. Unwittingly, that drive can actually work against them, and undermine the story they hope to tell.
An example of this would be those who wish to be remembered as “successful” or as a “winner”. While they may spend their lives accumulating accomplishments and leave behind trophy cases of awards and accolades, that only tells a part of their story. If the cost of achieving such things was meaningful relationships, and/or if their need to win caused them to treat people like pawns in a lifelong chess tournament, that will likely become the bigger story. The record books may acknowledge them as a “winner”, but they will be remembered for being ruthless and uncaring.
In the end, we don’t get to write our own legacy. It is ultimately defined by those we leave behind. In many ways it is the foundation we’ve established for them to build upon (or teardown), and the mark we’ve made on their hearts. If our life was nothing more than an endless pursuit of our own happiness, it seems doubtful that anyone would take the time to consider what it meant. Indeed, a life consumed with self is the emptiest existence one could choose. If we could grasp this concept early in life, it might drastically alter our value system, thereby rewriting the subtext of our story.
I’ve frequently taught my children that at the end of this life there will only be two things that really matter. One is “who you loved,” and the other is “who loved you!” When you’re lying on your deathbed, your money, your diplomas, your gold medals, your Oscars, your Nobel Prizes… won’t be of any consolation. In that moment, all the stuff that once seemed so valuable becomes meaningless, as we realize that only those things rooted in faith, hope and love can pass over the threshold with us.
It is in such moments that many a rich man discovers his poverty, and that many a poor man discovers the riches of a life well lived.
Today, as my dear brother Thomas lives out the final moments of his story, he is surrounded by people who he deeply loves, and who deeply love him. People who he has invested his heart in, and who cherish the moments they’ve had together. Though my brother has many other accomplishments, and things he could be admired for, these are the only things that matter today. As he stands on the threshold of eternity, he can look back into the loving eyes of those whose lives have been touched by his, and he can look ahead, into the loving eyes of the Father who awaits his embrace.
I can’t imagine a better way to end one’s story.
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