LEAVING A MARK

June 25, 2008

I had to look for it – a bush had overtaken the space in the year since I had been in the small northern town of Lira, Uganda. But there it was, right where I left it. It was a perfectly preserved, permanent imprint of my left shoe. (side note: never wear designer shoes to Africa – you never know what you’ll step in) I thought back to the night I had inadvertently stepped into the newly poured square of cement…

We had spent the day driving over the insanely awful roads of the north. Our missionary friends, Bob and Carol Higgins, were taking me, my husband Joe, and our son, Evan to a tiny spot in the middle of nowhere, a cluster of mud and stick huts. We had come to meet a small band of orphaned children who existed under the desperate care of a few villagers. We carried with us bags and boxes and armloads of “stuff” intended to brighten their world and communicate to them that somebody, somewhere, cared.

When we drove away that day, we left the kids with an armload each – towels and soap, toys and candy, pencils and paper. We left them with food and supplies. We took with us vivid memories of sober eyes and lice-infected heads, of open sores and tentative smiles. They left their mark on us - and our visit left a mark on them. You could argue that those of us standing in the hot sun that August day saved their lives. We certainly played a role. And in the twelve months since that first visit, much had happened to improve their lot – Bob and Carol had purchased land and begun construction of what would become home to these and many other children in the next few years. To play a small role in that was a defining moment for me. As we pulled away from the desolate spot, I wept.

In an effort to avoid the rebel army that roamed the north, we raced ahead of darkness into the dusty little town of Lira, a relatively safe haven. It was then, stepping out of the vehicle at the end of a long, emotional day, that I stepped into the wet cement.

Now it was a year later, and as I stared at the reminder of my first visit, forever imbedded in the sloping, crooked sidewalk, I felt something well up inside me. Maybe you’ve had a moment like this, an epiphany of sorts. I realized that wherever I go, I leave a mark. So do you. The question is always this: what does your mark look like? I’m sad to say that some of the marks I’ve left as I stumble through life don’t have the same clean, selfless lines as that footprint in Africa.

How will people speak of you when you’ve left the planet? Will they examine your footprints and remember the powerful impact you had on their lives, or will they shake their heads sadly and remember….nothing?

Wherever we go, we leave our mark. Good or bad, there it is. What we leave behind will speak volumes about who we were and what was important to us. I want my footprints to be imbedded deep in the center of what God is doing. I hope you want the same. As the old saying goes “Only one life, ‘twill soon be past. Only what’s done for Christ will last. For me to live is Christ.”

Leaving a mark,

Chris Earwicker