And so it begins, with an end.

This blog has been on my heart for years.  Literally.  I've agonized over its beginning, its crafting, its design and its place.  I've struggled with its name, the technology, and the setting, and the getting it "just right". And my Papa God has been after me to just get. this. done.  

And today? I push the boat out into the ocean, and start the journey.  Not because I'm ready. Not because it's perfect.  Far from it.  There's so much more to get ready.  But something has happened today that made me realize that the days are numbered.  The time grows short. And Papa God will have His way.

You see, today, Lucille died.  She's passed on to where I know she's happy and content and without pain, enjoying those who've gone before. Laughing her laugh with friends and family - and with her Lord.

It was a sudden passing - without warning. And yet I knew that this day would come, sooner or later. She was getting on in years, and had several chronic conditions that had narrowed her physical living space, though not her heart.  Lucille's heart was ever large, vibrant and loving. 

I first met Lucille when I was pregnant for my first daughter, Leigh, 39 years ago. I needed a nurse to help me oversee long term care facilities in a neighboring state, and when she came to interview, it was like I'd known her all my life.  I noted where she went to nursing school - a Catholic 3-year hospital school in New Hampshire, and quickly realized it was the same nursing school my mother had attended. And thus began the sharing of stories, of families intersecting, of faith and passions and of life.  In spite of our age difference (she was only a few years younger than my mother), we became fast friends, and our family was quickly adopted into her own.  Her husband Joe, and their four children became our family as well.  Showers, weddings, funerals.  Vacations. Travel. We shared them all. She and Joe became godparents to our second daughter Lindsey.  Her daughter Janet would babysit for Leigh as a baby, and Leigh was a flower girl at Janet's wedding. We always counted it a privilege and a blessing to belong to Lucille and Joe's family.  And judging by the numbers of people who attended their family events - many other folks did, as well.

Lucille has left me with many wonderful memories, and I will sorely miss her cheerful laugh on the phone as we would catch up with our families and with our lives. But the reason that she will be most remembered and her memory treasured; the reason that I know God has let me start this blog on this date is that Lucille and her husband Joe have embodied the very values and ideas I hope to share in this small slice of cyberspace.  The idea of legacy.  

Lucille and Joe embodied legacy.  From them, Kent and I learned so many valuable lessons about raising children, about home, about family.  About traditions and values. About living out faith in good times and bad.  Their legacy has little to do with what they said, but was nearly all gifted to us by example. We watched their passion for their kids, grandkids and great-grandchildren unfold and blossom out.  We watched how their sons and daughter evolved and grew up, and we noted the adherence to values that were true and deep. We saw love and mercy, and the unconditional acceptance of a mother and father who lived simply to bless - no matter the struggles of son or daughter. Their home was an open door of blessing, the very flavor of the home speaking of peace and comfort.

And this is not to say Kent and I grew up in homes that were all that different. Our roots were eerily similar, with the same ethnic background, same religious grounding.  So many similarities.  It was simply that Lucille and Joe were outside my own circle of family, but demonstrated the same commitment to family. It was as if Papa God opened a door into a parallel reality to say "See, this is how it's done well. These, too, know the secret. Do the same."

So we have. And many of the wonders of my own family come not only from my own roots, but from watching another sweet family live out similar ways of loving and doing and being.  Joe and Lucille understood legacy, and lived it out every day of their lives.  

Lucille will be sorely missed, surely by her family, but also by her many friends whom she blessed and favored with her smile, her laugh, her love.  But her legacy of family and generosity and love will live on through to the generations that will come after.  There is no better legacy than to show another how to laugh, how to care, how to love. 

Au revoir, Lucille. Au revoir.