Living so that God’s light shines through the lives we touch. Even in the autumn season of life, our kindness, prayers, and love become the stories that outlive us.

As the days grow shorter and the air takes on that familiar autumn crispness, and all but the native flowers in my garden have ended their summer glory, until next year. I find myself thinking about legacy. Not in a heavy or morbid way, but in a quiet wondering: Who will remember me, what will I leave as my legacy?

I’ve come to believe there are at least two kinds of legacies. The first is our genetic legacy. Since I don’t have children to carry on my genetics, this rules out this most traditional form. If I had adopted or had step-children I could hope to leave a legacy of maternal love with them, but that was not the case.

There is of course the legacy of our material accomplishments. For me, they are the books I’ve written and the weekly column on faith that I wrote for the Summit Daily News. I like to think that each one carries a spark of my creativity, and my gratitude, a small gift left with every reader.

Now, perhaps more than ever, is the time to follow the passion we’ve carried in our hearts. To live with joy and purpose, understanding that it is never too late to create our legacy. To show those younger than us that it is possible to keep creating, keep loving, keep giving—right up to the very end.

I know it’s possible because I saw my mother live this way until her dying day at nearly ninety-five. Even in hospice, when someone came to pray for her, she would turn around and ask, “May I pray for you?” That was her legacy: a life poured out for God and others.

Which leads me to the third, and I believe, greatest legacy: the lives we touch directly by our presence. The legacy of love.

When I think of my mother, who taught children to read until she was seventy-nine, I picture those children carrying the memory of her into adulthood. For their whole lives, they’ll remember the woman who opened the door to reading. That is her legacy living on.

I think of Mrs. Weaver, my dear friend since I was eleven years old, a friendship that now spans over fifty years. The love and attention she showed me when I was growing up will always be part of her legacy in my life.

And I think of Betty Pech, another one of the swim team moms like Mrs. Weaver, that I grew up with, her infectious laugh, dry humor, and elegant style. Even now, at the first hint of cold weather, I reach for a turtleneck and pull-on slacks, always hoping to look as elegant as she did. And hope that I can share love through humor, as she did.

All of this reminds me that what we do matters—right now, in these “larger-numbered” decades of life. The relationships we tend, the kindness we share, the dreams we dare to pursue—these are the threads of our legacy.

So I ask you: what legacy do you want to leave? Perhaps you’ve already achieved a professional legacy, and now you’re shaping a new one—built on creativity, friendship, and most of all, love.

May you find joy in building that legacy day by day, and may it shine as a light for those who follow.

If you’re looking for inspiration on shaping your legacy, I highly recommend reading this thirteenth chapter of 1st Corinthians:

If I speak in the tongues[a] of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast,[b] but do not have love, I gain nothing…

4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 11 When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. 12 For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

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