Legacy

 

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I’ve been thinking a lot about legacy. About how we stand on the shoulders of giants and how maybe I have a responsibility to give my children, and those who come after them, some of what I’ve been given.

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I don’t necessarily mean in a financial sense.

I mean in the sense of character, of integrity, of prayer, of success, of outlook, of family. I am the guardian of their legacy, of our legacy. Becoming a parent has placed this responsibility squarely on my shoulders: it’s not a job to give away, or something I can pay another to do. How I choose to live a disciplined life, how I choose to love, to exercise (or not), to speak, to act, to spend or save my money…all of it has an affect that can, and probably will, change the trajectory of my children’s lives for better or worse.

It’s a sobering thought.

They will do as they see me do.

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“Camilla, what do you want to be when you grow up? A doctor? A teacher?”

“I want to be a mom.”

Heaven, help me.

In truth, our girls are my priority, and I am so grateful that I get to spend my days the way I do. But deep down, I feel like I have legacy I want to leave beyond their lives, and I ache to give them the gift of learning how to pursue your God-given dreams while still being a wife and a mom. I want them to see real life in the trenches: dirty, messy and honest. So I feel a class circus act, juggling all the balls and trying to figure out what each day looks like.

It’s tricky not to feel the need to justify yourself, or prove your worth to a world focused on accolades and awards. It takes a certain grace and meekness and security: help me, God. I also know that true humility is not considering yourself and more than – or less than – your worth or ability. There isn’t a one sentence definition for what I do…

But it occurs to me that behind every bit of greatness, every outstanding theatre production, every magnificent home, every garden, every celebrity’s success, every nobel prize, lies a series of small decisions and subsequent actions taken day in, day out. Every. Day. It’s the combination of all the hammer knocks that get the nail in: tick tick tick tick, BANG. The watering of a garden, and how it can feel so relaxing (?). The pulling out of weeds. The putting down of my cellphone – now, just now, again again – to look them in the eye. One job at a time, conscientiously. Tick, tick, tick. A culmination of small tasks that leads to greatness in whichever path you choose.

“Camilla, what do you want to be when you grow up? A doctor? A teacher?”

“I want to be a mom.”

You go, girl!

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