Tomorrow marks the day my late father entered this world. Had he been alive, he would be celebrating 79 years. Today also carries weight; it is the birthday of my late mother-in-law. She, too, has gone on, and would have been 69 years old if she were still here.
Two lives. Two different stories. And yet, both were chosen by God to shape and steward the destinies that would one day converge in marriage, in ministry, in family.
When God sought a man to shepherd my beginnings, my formative years, He chose Conroy Westerby Montgomery Chiddick.
He chose a man who, as one of the eldest of many siblings, left school with only a primary school education to help carry the weight of his family. He chose a man given over to an aunt “for a better chance,” but who carried the sting of rejection all his life. He chose a man who often wrestled with fear: fear of trying, fear of risk, fear of stepping beyond the familiar. A man who found it difficult to let go in order to receive and become.
And yet, this is the man from whom I inherited my love for teaching, my hunger for the Word of God, and the peculiar lens to see Scripture beyond the surface. This is the man who left no financial inheritance but carried within him one burning desire: that his children would receive a spiritual legacy.
When God sought a woman to birth and nurture the man who would become my husband, He chose Marilyn Wharton, my mother-in-law. Hers was not an easy season. My husband, her firstborn, arrived during a time of great difficulty for the family. And yet she carried him, birthed him, and gave him his beginning. Through her, God set the stage for his life, his assignment, and ultimately our union. She, too, became a vessel, an instrument God used to release what He had ordained from before time.
We often ask why. Why this family? Why this history? Why couldn’t God have written a different story for us? But what we miss is that the family He placed us in is part of our equipping. Their DNA, their stories, their victories and failures, all of it becomes material in the Potter’s hand, shaping us for the assignment He has written into our lives.
Like Joseph, Manoah, Jochebed, Lois and Eunice, even Eve, God chose custodians. Stewards. Imperfect vessels who would yet shape us for the purpose He sent us here to fulfill.
Today I honor both my father and my mother-in-law. His legacy: a passion for the Word, a peculiar way of seeing and understanding it, and a faithfulness to God in the midst of battles and disappointments. Her legacy: the courage of a mother who brought forth life in a season of struggle, laying a foundation for generations that would follow. Two lives, two legacies and both were part of God’s equipping in my own journey.
And now I ask you:
- What legacy did your parents leave you?
- What equipping have you inherited, even if it came wrapped in pain?
- What grievances have you held on to, not realizing they might be the very tools God meant to form you for survival and destiny?
Those two, they were not perfect but they were instruments. Vessels. Tools in the Master’s hand, shaping us for His will on earth.
And so I speak this blessing:
May you have eyes to see the treasures hidden in your heritage. May your heart find healing where wounds once spoke louder than wisdom. May you walk in the strength of what has been passed down, discarding what was not of God but carrying forward what was eternal. And may you, too, become a faithful legacy bearer, shaping generations yet to come.