Our minister has just finished up a sermon series called "Legacy." He was addressing questions like "What do you want to leave behind?" and "How do you want to be remembered?"
This past Thursday night Dave and I went to the Winter Park Playhouse. It's a beautiful little venue that produces only feel good musicals. We, with some other friends, had purchased a block of tickets. But when the tickets came we discovered that Dave and I weren't sitting together. It was sad but we, of course, decided to be good sports about it. I held up the two tickets and Dave picked one.
Our seats couldn't have been further apart. I was against the wall on one side of the theater, he was against the wall on the other. But the difference was I was surrounded by our friends. When I stood up I could barely see Dave. But I could tell he was sitting with strangers.
Sitting amongst friends and listening to the music was enjoyable but I felt bad for Dave, so after the play started I scoped out two empty seats together on the back row. At the intermission I made my way over to rescue him. But he didn't see me. He was busy talking with his new friends. They had already exchanged phone numbers. When I told him about the two seats together he hesitated so I told him I'd go to the lobby and drop back by before the second half. When I did he went with me but I could tell he was torn, what with having to leave this new couple in his life.
If my kids could say when I'm gone, "Everybody loved my mom," that would be quite a legacy.
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