Remembering Faith

Someone reminded me this week of a girl I knew many years ago. Her name was Hilary. She was a tiny bit of a girl - with a heart ten times the size of her body - at least. She had a contagious smile and a sense of humor even in the most difficult of times. For such a little girl she was so strong - both mentally and physically. Her enthusiasm for her friends' successes, her sport, her family member's activities, and just for life itself was such an inspiration. She always knew just how to put everything into perspective. She saw the world through different lenses than most people. She didn't let rejection or failure deter her from pursuing her dreams. She spent most of her years dedicating her life to her first sport - gymnastics. When it was announced that she would not be going to the Olympics as everyone thought, I vividly remember her shrugging her shoulders and smiling saying "it's okay." She simply accepted it and then set her eyes on a new goal in a new sport. She'd try for the Olympics again - this time in diving. Tragically, she never had the opportunity. Hilary died in a car accident less than a month before her 20th birthday. Despite the fact that it's been over 14 years, Hilary's name still brings smiles and fond memories to everyone who knew her. She was one of those people you could just never forget.

Earlier this week someone mentioned another name to me. It didn't ring a bell. After some more information it finally clicked that I had indeed known this person. I just didn't remember them very well. The person was nice. They never gave me any reason not to like them. They just didn't stand out in my memory.

As I was looking through an old scrapbook with pictures of Hilary, smiling and even laughing as I remembered the moments that seemed to be gone in a flash, I thought about the other person who'd been brought back to my attention this week. I started comparing what it was that made Hilary stand out, and what it was that kept me from really remembering the other person. I began to wonder about myself. Fifteen years after I'm gone, will I stand out in people's minds as someone worth remembering with smiles and laughter? Or will people say "that name doesn't ring a bell." Will they remember me with less than fond memories? What will they remember me for? What am I doing today that will outlast me?

I know some of you are thinking this is sounding really morbid, but I'm not trying to be gloomy. What is it that makes me remember Hilary so clearly? She gave. She gave her heart. Her love. Her eyes - her perspective on life. Her attention. Her laughter. Her kindness. Her determination. Her encouragement and support. Her strength. Her optimistic attitude. Where did all of those things come from? How could she give so abundantly of so many things? Easy. Her faith. Hilary knew God and lived her life for Him. No one on this earth could take away the one thing that mattered most to her. Sadly, I can't tell you whether the other person knew God or not. I don't know. I don't remember them ever mentioning Him in conversation. I certainly don't remember them doing anything that would make me immediately think "oh, they must really love Jesus."

When I'm gone, will someone say, "You know, I don't really know if she was a Christian or not?"

Will people remember me for my faith? Will my faith outlast me? Will people remember me as someone who really loved Jesus?

My prayer today was simple. "God, don't let people remember me for the things I do, for the things I say, or for the things I accomplish; but let people remember me for being someone who lived every moment of her life for You and with You. Let me be remembered as someone who was fully consumed by You."