I sit gazing at a picture on the wall of five women. These are my roots, a family long ago gone, leaving very little to tell me who they were. Beyond their names and relationship to me I wonder how they spent their days, what they thought about and what they loved. If they had known that I, the great, great, great granddaughter of Grandma Bish, would someday want to know them, maybe they would have written a letter to be carefully cared for and passed from generation to generation until it reached me.
God says, in Deuteronomy 11:18-20 to commit ourselves completely to His words. To tie them to our hands as a reminder, and wear them on our foreheads. Most importantly, He says to Teach them to our children. We are to talk about them at home or away on a journey, when we are lying down and getting up again. He says to write them on our doorposts and on our gates, so that as long as the sky remains above the earth, we and our children will flourish.
God meant for us to teach our children His laws for living. Each generation is to pass the love of God on to the next.
Often with the cares and snares of living, we forget Godís words and we forget to teach our children. Should the chain of verbal teaching be broken, somewhere along the line, I want my descendents to know that the first and most important place in my life is occupied by my Creator and that the most important book I ever read is the Bible. As it not only tells of Godís love and faithfulness but also gives the guidelines with which to live.
So I will begin today to write about my love for my Creator and the deepest secrets and insights He reveals to me. I will think about how I live my life because I want my great, great, great grandchildren to benefit in some way from my life and when they look at a faded photograph, they will know me and of my desire for them to know my God and Father.