When I think of the word inheritance, it brings mixed images. I suppose most of the time people think of money, antiques, or jewelry as an inheritance, and in some ways I do, too. But I also consider other ingredients of my life an inheritance.

I inherited a love of books from my mother. Many of my most vivid memories of her from my childhood involve books. She was always reading, so she set the example, and she made sure there were books in the house for my brother and me. I inherited the idea that one should be in church on Sunday mornings, and that one should trust God and pray also from my mother. I don't remember ever hearing her pray out loud, but I knew she did it and she talked to me about it. My mother also passed along the idea of a positive attitude and rolling with the punches, and being strong in unpleasant situations. She raised my brother and me as a single parent, and also helped provide for her own widowed mother, so she was well-acquainted with those concepts and modeled them always. I remember her telling my daughter once, "Always remember, you're a strong woman and you come from a line of strong women." Can't was not a part of her vocabulary, and she didn't expect to hear it from us. She also insisted upon and modeled putting others first. One instance that I never realized as a child, but that hit me like a brick as I raised my own children, is how my brother and I always had a brand new Easter outfit. In the part of Ohio I grew up in, that meant a spring coat as well as everything else, including shoes. Not a year went by that we didn't go shopping for Easter clothes, but my mother wore her lovely, but "traditional" dove gray suit with the turquoise blouse. I thought she just liked it; now I realize how much she must have sacrificed, not just where Easter outfits were concerned, but in every area of her life. In fact, it came as a real shock to me when I got out in the world, and realized the "me first" existence of most other people I met.

From her mother, my Grandma, I inherited a love of cooking and baking. The typical Italian Grandma, she was often to be found in the kitchen year  'round making wonderful things to eat--bread and pasta from scratch, cookies, cinnamon "twisties," city chicken, meatballs, you name it. I didn't get to help often, but when I did, especially as the Christmas holidays approached, she ingrained in me the right things to do in the kitchen. And the more she baked, the more she gave away. Grandma didn't have much, truly nothing much in the eyes of the world, but she taught me giving.

From my Grammy and Grampy, I inherited creativity. My Grampy was a lapidary, and he was often at his workbench in the basement making beautiful things--pendants, ear rings, rings, tie pins out of jade, opal, onyx, and various other semi-precious stones. He taught me how to do it when I was pretty young, and I loved spending time with him in his workshop. As a side lesson, he taught me the value "quietness." We never talked much in those hours I spent with him (he whistled more than he talked), but I could "feel" the closeness we shared. My Grammy talked all the time, and she also was very "artsy." She taught me to color eggs with beeswax and die, etch flowers and birds on silver plaques, and make roses out of fake fur, among many other things. In my twenties, I loved going to the ceramic shop with her when I could. One of my prized possessions is the nativity set she made and that I inherited when she passed away and my Grampy sold their house. They always taught me things and I never realized I was learning. They showed me birds' nests' with baby birds, how tulips can be planted in various colors one year and come up all one composite color the next, how to change the color of Queen Ann's Lace, what happens to a grasshopper when it gets too close to a praying mantis, how to "skin the cat" on the monkey bars at the playground, how to invent a tool if you don't have one that will work, how to give and not let people know you're doing it, and how to be a friend. They also taught me that life is fun, and that you can joke and laugh, and that all that is still OK, even when you're a Christian.

None of those people were rich, but they left me a rich inheritance. Peter said, "Silver and gold I do not have, but what I have, I give you" (Acts 3:6). And they gave so much, not only to my brother and me, but to many, many others.

There is a "futile inheritance," the one that bases all value on money, antiques, land, jewelry, and the like. And also things like worry, fear, selfishness, anger, discontent, and all those things that can eat away at the soul. If we're not careful, as parents, we can make those things the inheritance of our children. I'm fortunate, I was taught many great lessons. Not everyone is that blessed.

Jesus said, "Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also" (Matt. 6:19-21). I am grateful for the eternal inheritance that Jesus Christ left for me. And I am grateful, so grateful, for the family in which He placed me, where His lessons were taught by those who were my "Jesus with skin on." I pray that I may be the same for my family.