The Lesson That Outlasted the House

"Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?"

 — Mary Oliver, from "The Summer Day"

 Decades ago, while I was away at college after graduating from high school, my parents bought a new house. We had lived on Crestwood Lane since I was three years old. But the next time I came home, I would be sleeping in a room I had never seen before.

 I will admit that it was a bit unsettling. We all like that home base to remain as we remember it. But I also knew that my Dad, in particular, was very proud of this accomplishment. It was the result of many years of hard work running his own business while getting us all educated and giving us a life filled with opportunities he never had.

Part of what he loved about that new house was that it had a fireplace. Living in northern Ohio, that was important. He selected the perfect chair to sit by it and read. Since my memories of my Dad were already of him sitting each night and reading, that made it feel a bit more like home.

He wanted to mark the occasion of our family’s new haven by having some kind of inscription placed on a plaque that could be mounted on the fireplace. He had seen that done before and it was part of his vision. We mutually decided that it should be a Bible verse.

And so the quest began to choose one.

Little did we know that the verse we chose would become one of the lasting gifts of that home. I’ve lived in many other places since then, but that moment remains.

The verse is Colossians 1:10:

That you might walk worthy of the Lord unto all pleasing. Being fruitful in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God.

Those words were written by Paul to the Colossians, but I believe they were also the prayer my parents had for our family.

At the time, I doubt any of us thought much about whether the plaque would survive the years ahead. We were focused on the excitement of a new home and a new season. But life has a way of teaching us what matters.

Houses change hands. Families move. Furniture disappears.

Yet some things have a way of staying with us. Not because they were mounted on a wall, but because they became part of how we see the world.

The plaque was intended to mark a home, but it ended up marking a family.

Decades later, I remember very little about the floor plan of that house. But I still remember the words we chose to place above the fireplace.

I find myself returning to that verse often.

Not as a prayer, but as a guide for what it means to live a good life.

The older I get, the more I realize that those few words contain a surprisingly complete answer to Mary Oliver's question about what we plan to do with our one wild and precious life.

The things that endure are rarely the things we think we're building.

My father thought he was building a house. He was also building a family culture.

He thought he was installing a plaque. He was planting a set of values.

He thought he was marking a moment. He was shaping a legacy.

What are you building into the people you love that will still be with them when everything else has changed?

Consider what the verse actually says:

Honor — walking worthy of the gifts, opportunities, and responsibilities we've been given.

Generosity — being fruitful in every good work and contributing something beyond ourselves.

Lifelong Learning — increasing in knowledge and understanding throughout our lives.

It turns out that those words describe the kind of life my father was living all along and wanted us to live as well.

They are also a remarkably complete framework for a life.

The house is long gone from my daily life. The chair by the fireplace exists now only in memory. But the lesson remains.

Honor what you've been given.

Be fruitful in ways that help others.

Never stop growing.

A good answer to Ms. Oliver’s question.