From One Generation to Another

As an eight-year-old girl, rifling through the pages of the new Sears and Roebuck Wish Book, I fell in love with a doll.  There she was...the perfect baby doll.  She did not talk or drink or wet.  But she looked (to me) like a real baby, and so loveable. 

When my third grade teacher had us write letters to Santa, I knew just what I would ask for..."Newborn Miss Peep."  (I also asked for "a real guitar for not more than $3.99"—don't ask me how I settled on that price limit—but Newborn Miss Peep was at the top of my list.) 

Peep was under the Christmas tree in December of 1968, and she became my most-loved doll.  It was so easy to pretend that she was my real baby.  She wore a white kimono trimmed and tied with pink rickrack, and was wrapped in a pink blanket.  I would take her out on errands with my mom, and I was convinced that when other shoppers looked at us and smiled, they thought that she was real and were admiring my baby. 

Peep was my treasure all through childhood, even into the days when I knew that I was "too old" to play with dolls and no longer took her on errands, but loved her and played with her in the confines of my own home. 

Then the day came when I had my very own, very real baby, my firstborn, Kristin.  And when Kristin was around eight years old, old enough to take great care of this treasure, I gave Peep to her.  It was right that she, as my oldest daughter, should have this beloved part of my childhood. 

Last week, my sweet granddaughter Maddie celebrated her seventh birthday.  On the night before her big day, her mama gave her a very special gift.  Yes, "Newborn Miss Peep" now belongs to another firstborn daughter, and it warms my heart to think of Maddie being "Mommy" to my "baby."  Kristin told her that she could name her doll anything that she chose, but Maddie said that she thought that "Peep" was a good name.  (I think so too, Maddie.)

There is a greater treasure—greater than a childhood toy, greater than my great-grandmother's tea set, greater than my grandmother's sewing basket, or heirloom silverware—that can be passed along to future generations.  That treasure is the Word of the Lord. 

One generation shall praise thy works to another,

and shall declare thy mighty acts.

The passing on of our faith must be just as deliberate, just as tender, as that of passing on a treasured heirloom. 

I am not speaking of some kind of "spiritual osmosis" here, in which faith is absorbed by the children just because their parents are believers, bypassing the fact that each individual must make his or her own choice.  But I am speaking of taking care to share His eternal truths, to share your love for Him, to making choices that are true to His Word, to live your faith.  It begins with loving the Lord with all of your heart, soul, and strength...and then proactively teaching His truth to your children. 

You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your strength. And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up.  (Deuteronomy 6:5-7)

The heritage that we give to our children and to our grandchildren is of eternal importance.