A revelation provided by a newly-people-less house.

Trophy House

The front door lock was stiff.  It hadn’t been used for almost a year.  I giggled the key in an effort to get it to release.  Just as I was about to give it up there was a slight click.  The handle was free of the locking mechanism that had bound it.  So, I entered the house.

This wasn’t just any house.  It was the home of James and Carol Grimm.  They, and their family, are friends of mine.  As I walked in and saw the familiar sights, I could feel a knot beginning to be tied in my throat.  It signaled what I already knew.  Everything was still in this house, except for James and Carol.  Without them it was just a structure; a building filled with things.

Once inside I moved forward.  My purpose was to look it over for the family, so they could begin to get it ready for a sale.  I walked slowly because virtually everything there carried a memory.  They weren’t just my memories.  They were James and Carol’s memories.  All on display.

James’ trophies were perhaps the most prominent display in the house. They were almost all contained in the large trophy room.  I took the time to read the plaque on virtually every one of them.  They were descriptive of what James had achieved over a lifetime of pursuing his dreams.  They were big dreams and he had achieved an almost unimaginable amount of success.  

“This is a trophy house!”  I said to myself as I progressed.

But, as I looked toward the west end of the room, I was reminded that measures of success are not always found to be on display in a trophy room. There, just in front of me, was a photo album sitting on top of a brown cardboard box, near the trophy room’s entry.  It caught my eye because I had seen it before.

“I remember that photo album!”  I whispered to myself in recognition of its importance.

I remembered it, because not long ago I was looking through it with one of Carol and James’ sons.  He and I were reliving some of the most impactful family memories it contained.

“Not one of those photos contains a trophy!”  I reminded myself as I picked it up, in an almost absently minded manner.

The photos illustrated the growth of two boys and their parents.  They boys were on a journey to manhood.  The parents on their journey toward growing a living legacy.  The album showed a great deal of their shared journey.  Jimmy sitting up in a hospital bed, healing, after he survived a horrific automobile accident.  Family events held at their former homes in Scottsdale, Tulsa and Alabama.  Each photo whispered a documentary that played on, not only in my mind, but in the minds and hearts of those depicted therein.

“This is more than a trophy house!”  I called out for the whole universe to hear.  “The trophies tell of one ended story.  The boys shown in this album?  They are the continuing story!”

The front door lock was stiff when I arrived and tried to open it.  It hadn’t been used for almost a year.  I giggled the key in an effort to get it to release.  Just as I was about to give it up there was a slight click.  The handle was free of the locking mechanism that had bound it.  So, I entered the house.

This wasn’t just any house.  It was the home of James and Carol Grimm.  They, and their family, are friends of mine.  As I walked in and saw the familiar sights I could feel a knot beginning to be tied in my throat.  It signaled what I already knew.  Everything was still in this house, except for James and Carol.  Without them it was just a structure; a building filled with things, a trophy house.  Yet, the giggling of the front door’s handle caused something more than that one lock to be released.

My walk through the trophy room, where I rediscovered developed memories, opened another door of contemplation.

James and Carol have left something of much greater import than a house filled with trophies.  They’ve left a living legacy.  Two boys grown into men.  Grandchildren who are now parents themselves.  Love that has endured and is being carried forward.  

They’ve left life!  They’ve created a wonderful, living legacy!