Last Saturday morning, Karie and I were playing with our two girls in the Baltimore-Washington International Airport waiting for our connecting flight to Indy, when a representative of the Honor Flight got on the PA system.
He announced "In 10 minutes a flight of 36 WWII vets from Louisville will be exiting their airplane. These men are being given an all-expense paid trip to see the WWII memorial."
He continued, "1200 WWII vets are dying every day. This is our last chance to honor them. So as they exit the plane and enter the terminal, they don't know it's coming, but we want to give them a hero's welcome."
Most of us if we were honest, would say "I want the work that I've done, the sacrifices I've made (even if it was 60 years ago) to be remembered. I want my life to mean something. I want all the labor I poured into learning, and getting degrees, and building my business, or teaching my students, or raising my children, to mean something. I want to leave a legacy-a company that stands the test of time, students who were impacted by my classes, children who share my faith and honor my values."
We all realize we're going to die. Like those WWII vets who are passing away at a rate of 1200 per day. And we want to leave some kind of an impact. Maybe not a memorial, maybe not even a standing ovation in the airport, but we want someone to remember us. We want our work to do good or to be remembered after we die.
Well, I hate to burst your bubble. But we're in Ecclesiastes, so Solomon will do it for us.