Leveled

It still surprises me every time I pull into the church parking lot to see the empty lot next door. The house, which had been there longer than Parkside has existed, is gone. Leveled. The little boy in me wanted to watch the crane knock it down, but the whole place was in a pile before I even arrived at work that day. Once the grass seed sprouts, not much will remain to remind us that house even existed.

It makes me sad because I'm sure that home held many fond memories. How much care and attention was given to it over the decades? For someone, it has always been that special place we call "home." It's usefulness and value had certainly ended, but my guess is the folks living in it half a century ago would have never imagined this outcome. Leveled.

It makes me question the things I give my attention to today. Most of it seems pretty important. It always does. But am I focused on stuff that is doomed to be "leveled" in times to come? Will someone look at my passions or pursuits, wondering why any of it even mattered to me?

That's not to suggest my values & priorities need the affirmation of the crowd. I just want them to stand the test of time (& then some). Lots of things are important for a season. I'd rather build within my life lasting monuments -- a legacy of relationships, impact and purpose that won't ever be leveled. Easier said than done, but now I've got an empty lot next door as my constant reminder.