Can Mimi Read a Story?

“Grandchildren are the crowning glory of the aged;” Proverbs 17:6a

“Daddy, can Mimi read me a story?” Joel asked his dad as he was getting him into his pajamas. Ethan replied yes, and Joel ran into the living room saying, “Mimi is going to read a big book.” As much as Joel loves for me to read to him, I am aware the length of the book was his tactic for stalling bedtime. Not being called out by Mimi, he picked a longer picture book from his library basket. We cuddled together on the couch and read about duck, cow, and sheep’s tractor ride through town while his little sister, Eva, crawled around at my feet. As I read, my heart swelled, savoring this moment with my grandchildren. And all too soon the long book was finished, just as our long weekend was wrapping up as well. And soon, once again, I would be 422 miles away from my two favorite little people.

Timothy Keller passed away on May 19, 2023. For those who don’t know this name, Keller was an influential preacher of the gospel in the evangelical world. Although he has been around for a while, my first introduction came two years ago when one of my pastors played a recording of Tim Keller explaining the gospel. His intellectual pursuit of God along with his compassionate delivery resonated with me. I began regularly listening to his Gospel in Life podcast, where recordings of his past messages are shared. He wasn’t charismatic with a delivery full of pomp and flash. Instead, his voice was calm, wise, and confident. He presented scripture from the premise that everything pointed back to the gospel. He believed “the gospel says you are simultaneously more sinful and flawed than you ever dared believe, yet more loved and accepted than you ever dared hope.” He pointed out that “the irony of the gospel is that the only way to be worthy of it is to admit that you’re completely unworthy of it.”

Keller was different than a lot of megachurch pastors that have become instant celebrities only to crash later due to either moral failures or narcissism. Instead, he quietly raised a congregation of size in the heart of New York City. In the beginning of his ministry, he didn’t start publishing books pontificating about how he planted his church. Instead, his first book was published when he was close to sixty years old, articulating his answers to others’ questions about God. His influence is not measured by the books he wrote, or the messages he preached, but more by the relationships he developed and people he mentored. After receiving his cancer diagnosis, he was asked how he wanted to be remembered. Tim Keller never cared about legacy or his reputation, it was all about pointing back to the God who had saved him. But he did answer that question in an interview with these words: “I hope my grandchildren remember me.”

This same thought has echoed through my world from a few different sources. In my final MOPS meeting of the year, we watched a video of an older mom reminding younger moms to keep their inner circle of relationships a priority. Next, I started reading Jean Stoffer’s memoir Establishing Home where she echoed the importance of prioritizing her role as a mother over her growing business. And then, on another podcast, I heard the concept “live your eulogy, not your resume.”

I’ve been wrestling with life choices we made in the past and how they impact our future. I grappled when putting together a job resume, and my experience was limited to childcare. I imagine the possibilities of having made different choices. Maybe if I had chosen a career over being a home-educator, I could be going to Italy next year. Maybe if I had chosen to start graduate school ten years ago, the possibility would seem more cost effective. These “what if’s” have left me feeling disillusioned and unsatisfied.

Tim Keller’s words, along with the persistent voices of others, reminded me of the truth in my life. Like most mothers, I prioritized the little ones in my home. For me, that looked like choosing to stay home and educate my children. It looked like welcoming countless children into my home, providing a safe and nurturing environment for them while their parents worked. And these decisions along with countless others lead to the life I live today.

And it’s a good life. It’s a life where I can write a memoir that I am hoping will impact others. It’s a life where I can use some of my gifts to minister to others in my community. And it’s spent with my two favorite little humans sitting on my lap, listening to me read stories about ducks and pigs.

Italy is still a goal and graduate school is still a possibility. But at the end of the day, my grandchildren won’t remember the magnificent artwork Mimi saw in Florence. They won’t remember that she went for her master’s degree in counseling in her fifties. They will remember the time she spent with them, reading, exploring, and sharing with them the goodness of God.

Timothy Keller left behind seven grandchildren. No doubt, some day they will Google their grandfather’s name and read all the wonderful accolades about him. They will see the list of books he wrote and see places where he is quoted. But I am confident that they will have their own special memories of times spent with their grandfather. And these memories are what will help them see the Gospel in a life well lived. My wish, is that Joel and Eva, and any future grandchildren, will see that reflected in my life as well.