Lily’s Acro class will not be the same tonight, or maybe ever. We learned Saturday evening her instructor, Coach Jam, passed away unexpectedly. He was 32 years old.
We did not know Coach Jam very well or for very long. Lily enrolled in Acro class last summer and hadn’t quite reached the one-year mark under his direction. Conversation was limited because COVID required Coach Jam to wear a mask (and parents, too) but his smile and kindness were evident in his eyes and his spirit.
Lily’s last lesson with Coach Jam was one of her favorite classes. I could hear him compliment her effort and cheer her progress from my seat in the bleachers. When the hour was up, Lily rushed to me and proudly declared, “I won the handstand contest!” Handstands are not her strength, so this moment made an impact on her. I hope Coach Jam’s affirmation lingers within Lily for a long time.
Coincidentally, or maybe not, our dinnertime devotion Saturday was on legacy. My family is reading through a book titled “Disney Devotionals.” It’s a fun twist on Bible study. The chapter we shared just hours after we heard about Coach Jam’s death centered on the “Leave a Legacy” feature at the entrance to Epcot.
Author Albert Thweatt writes:
“A legacy is what people remember you by. It’s the impression you leave behind on others. What is your legacy? Nobody wants to think about this, but what if you left this Earth today? How would you be remembered? What would your legacy be?” (Disney Devotionals, Theme Park Press, Copyright 2019)
No one would have predicted Coach Jam, in his youth and tremendous physical shape, would die mere days after his 32nd birthday. Neither could I understand a sentence of Alzheimer’s Disease for my daddy when he was only 52 years old. Death and diagnoses are unpredictable and largely out of our control. Life, however, is ours to shape.
I have read on Facebook some beautiful words of tribute to Coach Jam: a light, a talent, a gift. The eulogy at my daddy’s funeral, delivered by his pastor, epitomized daddy’s wit, faith and prayer life. These characteristics of Coach Jam and my daddy weren’t realized as a result of their deaths. They were accomplished through their lives.
Our legacy is not decided when we die, but while we live.
Thoughts of life and legacy loomed close for a couple of days last week after I received a phone call that my mammogram on Monday had come back questionable. The radiologist needed additional images due to “an area of concern.” I found myself the next three days looking at my daughters more often and holding their hugs a while longer. I was relieved to tell my family Thursday that my second mammogram and an ultrasound “to be sure” revealed my health is fine. That clear scan is not a guarantee I will always will be OK.
A Bible verse in the Psalms reminds us we are not going to live on this Earth forever. Moses wrote, “So teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” (Psalm 90:12) It is wise for us to acknowledge we have a finite amount of time to leave our unique mark on the world, and prudent for us to consider what our lasting influence will be.
It’s tricky business sometimes. Legacy can be a slippery slope into a strive for acceptance and accolades. When we pursue approval from an audience, unless that audience is Jesus, we’re building celebrity for ourselves, not legacy. Our legacy should not be about us at all, really. Coach Jam committed to help his students hone their potential as athletes. My daddy taught me to love and live for Jesus. Neither of them set a stage to stand in the spotlight alone. Legacy pursues love, service, and impact for the people around us.
Lily’s Acro class will not be the same tonight. I’ll hold her hand through the curiosity of a new coach and in the uncertainty of life itself. She’ll feel safe with me beside her. That’s my privilege as her mom and a piece of the legacy I want to create.
What will your legacy be? I hope you will take time to consider thoughtfully and intentionally how you want to be remembered. You get to choose. All of us get to choose. Not on the day that we die, but on all the days that we live.
“So teach us to number our days, that we may get a heart of wisdom.”
(Psalm 90:12)
