I prayed for a kid today.

Actually, it was a teenage student at the Christian school where I teach.  He shared that he was getting a lot out of a devotional book he's been reading, but not much from his church services. Yeah, I've been there.  So I prayed for him. 

Now I'm going on what will seem to be a rabbit trail, and perhaps will be.  Bear with me.

Count Nicholaus Zinzendorf wrote this life mission statement, "Preach the Gospel, die, be forgotten."  I love this quote, but three things always come to mind when I reflect on it:

       1.  It's a great mission statement for all Christians;

       2.  "Be forgotten" seems so noble, but, in truth, deep down, I don't really like that idea; yet

       3.  The vast majority of us, regardless of our faith or world view, WILL be forgotten much sooner that we'd like to think or believe.

Recently, my godmother sent me some old family pictures, including one of my paternal great-grandparents.  Until receiving this photo, I knew nothing about them.  I had met their daughter, my grandmother, when I was a kid.  I'd heard stories from my dad about my grandfather.  But I literally knew NOTHING about my great grandparents until receiving that old photo in the mail.  Their names- written on the back- were Adolph and Marte.  (This was back when Adolph was an honorable northern European man's name, before it was ruined forever, but that's a topic for another blog.)

I still don't know much more about Adolph and Marte than their names, and that ol' Adolph had a killer beard!  What gives me pause, though, is that they were just one generation before my grandmother, their daughter, whom I had met. How quickly they were  forgotten.  I imagine no one alive knows their favorite colors, their pet peeves or their biggest joys or disappointments.  No one alive today knows what Marte thought of kissing Adolph's enormous beard, what meal Marte would prepare for Adolph when she wanted a romantic evening, or what Adolph's parents thought of Marte when he first introduced her to them. Only a handful (of which I am blessed to one) even know their names anymore.  Without the photo in the mail, I wouldn't know that either, nor would my four brothers, who, because I told them,  now make up, I'm sure, a significant percent of that handful.  

But without Adolph anf Marte, I wouldn't be here.  Though forgotten, I am grateful to them.  Without these long forgotten ancestors, I would never have been.  Nor would my three daughters.  My wife would, no doubt, have married a much less desireable man (lol).  People I have hurt would not have been hurt by me, and people I've blessed would not have been blessed in the same ways.

And because of Adolph and Marte, I was able to pray for a kid today.