The house is still.
All is silent. My babies sleep, as does my husband.
The only one not sleeping is me. Eyes wide open, I stare at the ceiling. I listen to my baby breathe deeply in her sleep, her long eyelashes brushing her cheeks. Her little hand is curled around my finger. I think of her name, "Kelly," and my mind wanders to memories of her namesake, my friend Kelly, who died of cancer a little over a year ago. Memories of her flood my heart, and the tears trickle down my face.
Sometimes I hate night, and the deafening silence. I hate it when, unguarded, my mind starts to wander down lonely streets and bittersweet pathways. I remember good memories, and I remember bad memories. I try to shut my brain off, but once I start down the lonely path of memories, I usually have to muddle through them for awhile.
It's funny the way memories work. You think of one memory, only to think of another, and another. As I lay pondering my friend, and her short life, I had thoughts swirling in my mind. Why would God take someone as young as her, when she had five kids, and a husband, and many friends, and family, who loved her? And then I think of her kids. I think of her daughter who looks just like her, and her other four children. I think of how much they loved her, and how they will never forget her. I think of my own little Kelly, who is named after her. I think of the impact my friend had on my life, and how she took a little piece of my heart with her when she went to Heaven. I think of the legacy that she left behind, and it comforts me.
See, I am the type of woman that wants to turn the world upside down. I want to tell everyone of my love for my Lord, and I want to see lives changed. I want to help those that are hurting. I want to comfort those that need comfort. I want to see as many people come to know Christ as I can.
I want to leave a legacy.
I think that deep down, all of us want this same thing.
One of my biggest fears in life is that if and when I die, no one notices. No one cares. Life goes on like I never existed.
I tell my husband all the time that he better not get married again if I die. I want to be his first love, his only love, and I don't want him to ever love another woman- not ever! I know it's selfish on my part, but I want to believe that I am irreplaceable.
And then it hits me. I am irreplaceable to seven people.
The eight most important people in the world to me live under my roof. Seven of them have my blood pumping through their veins. I have carried seven of them in my womb. I have birthed them. I have nursed and loved them, and kissed their "boo-boos", and trained them, and nurtured them, and I would die for them. Seven people in this house are my legacy.
If I were to die tomorrow, seven children would never be the same again, just like my friend Kelly's children will never be the same without her in their lives anymore.
Mamas, you are raising your legacy.
If you feel like you are all alone, you aren't. If you feel like you aren't making a difference, you are. If you feel like you could be gone from this earth tomorrow and no one would notice, you're wrong. If you feel like life is pointless because all you do is cook, and clean, and wipe noses, and train, and discipline, and correct, and do it all over again in the morning, well, nothing could be further from the truth.
You are turning the world upside down. You are choosing to have children in a world that hates and despises children. You are going against the grain of society, and that's never easy. You are enduring criticism and looks and glares and comments because you have decided that all those things don't matter. God has put the desire for a large family in your heart, and so you are going to have a large family, if that's what he wills!
Raising the children that the Lord has given you is the most important thing that you could be doing. You might never be as well known as Mother Theresa. You might never have fame, or tributes, or songs written about you. You might die tomorrow and most of the world would never notice.
But your kids would. Your husband would. Your family and friends would.
The name Cassandra McMurtry might never mean anything to many people. But to seven people who have my blood flowing their veins, it means the world.
To my three month old suckling, it means everything. I can't even get her to eat anymore- she just wants to stare up at Mama's face with huge smiles. She might not be able to speak her love with words, but her huge smiles speak so much love.
To my five year old, who follows me around the house the entire day talking my ear off, it means everything.
To my nine year old, and my eleven year old, and my fourteen year old, and my sixteen year old, and yes, even to my seventeen year old, the name Cassandra McMurtry means a lot.
So what if I never have riches, or fame, or speeches written about me?
So what if the world keeps on going after I am gone?
My whole legacy is here, under this roof.
And at the end of the day, that is enough.
I am going to grab my baby close to me and close my eyes in sleep, as memories of my friend flit through my head and heart.
She left a great legacy behind, and I am striving to do the same.
