Reminder

My grandchildren never met their grandmother who was their father's birth mother. Although I was blessed to remarry to a woman who shared the raising of two boys, there was always a concern on my part that my granddaughters would neither know or have any memories of the woman who, at one time, I was sure would be my side much longer than the fifteen years with which we were blessed. We yearn for some physical reminder of someone who dies, especially if they were a treasured part of your life. So it was that I decided to present the girls with something that would be a reminder of the special person that they would never meet.

When my older granddaughter reached the age of sixteen, I presented her with a ring that her grandmother wore constantly. My intention was to, likewise on her sixteenth birthday, give her sister the tiny diamond earrings that were among her grandmother's favorites. The earrings are now hers and hopefully will in some way connect her to that person she never met. I can't know for sure if giving the girls these mementos was for their benefit or mine; probably a pretty good case for both. This Christmas will be the thirty-fifth anniversary of there grandmother's death. Making the girls aware of how much meant and how much I would like them to have known her has given a sort of closure.

My life has been blessed in so many ways. Even losing someone with whom you expected to spend the rest of your life with is part of God's plan. Our testing comes in the form of life (or death) experiences. God knew that a tough test showing how powerless were are in most circumstances was what it would take to humble me. God sent another partner to love as only man and woman can through Him. Indeed, I have been blessed

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What Bugs Me?

There are a few things that continue to puzzle me about how the way I see things are not lining up with the way others see things. It's not about having differences of opinion. Differences of opinion are healthy in that many times discussing differences results in better understandings. This happens when new facts are brought to light and allow for a usually reluctant change of mind. When I have an opinion, I try to look for evidence that supports that opinion and, lately, there have been a few things happening that confirm what I believe and yet seem less than convincing to friends with alternate points of view.

An area of concern for me is climate change (global warming or whatever you may want to call it), Although the matter has been studied for over fifty years and the vast majority of scientists who study it agreeing on the issue, there are still a lot of folks who question if it is real. We even elected a president who claims it;s a hoax. Oddly enough this issue has become a partisan one with one party more likely to say climate change is happening and the other saying "not so". It's at this point that I look to the natural world I love and believe God has created for some clue as to the reality of the situation.

Although it will not likely change anyone's mind, I've observed a definite change that nature is showing me that confirms what I believe about climate change. When my first wife and I moved into the home we built with the help of friends and relatives we noted that the first sighting of fireflies (lightning bugs if you prefer) occurred within a day or two of her birthday, June 10. She has been called to her final reward. However the fireflies still hibernate each year and begin their amazing courtship light show every year. I saw the first firefly this year on May 20, a full twenty-one days earlier than forty years ago. Will this change that has gradually taken place make any naysayers believe climate change is real and needs our attention. I believe it should. God gave us this whole world over which we are to be good stewards. Let's admit we did a poor job of it and repent.

Raking It In

If you have followed my blog, you've probably picked up on the fact that I like writing about the things my grandfather Eli did and also about his concern for the loss of the remarkable American Chestnut tree. I believe he would be pleased with the efforts being made to develop a blight-resistant tree that will hopefully be reintroduced into the forests where its ancient relatives once dominated. Granddad often spoke about the wonderful qualities of Chestnut wood and the great versatility it provided, being used for practically any wood projects as well as coming from a tree that bore copious quantities of nuts for animal and human consumption.

Granddad was the last generation to essentially live off the land, never having what you would describe as a occupation. He lived by growing food, hunting, fishing and selling the occasional load of mine ties or props from the forest.  In this way, he and his wife provided for their family of eight children, all of whom are no longer living. It was a very different era, one filled with simple pleasures and plenty of hard work. Granddad had hay fields that, for the most part, were mowed and raked by hand and then the hay was hauled into the barn for animal sustenance during the winter months. The raking of hay was accomplished with a wooden implement, often homemade from materials at hand and one of those rakes survived on display on my back porch for the last forty years or so. A couple weeks ago, I found it on the porch floor apparently dislodged form where it hung by some critter (I suspect a Phoebe trying to find a nest site). The handle (a not perfectly straight sapling) had broken off where it joined the head beam and the two bows that jointed the handle to the beam had shattered.

I'm in the process of repairing the relic, not so much because I want to rake hay but because it reminds me of from where I've come. A couple of the teeth had been missing from the time I hung it up there so long ago and I've replaced them and reshaped the end of the handle using a draw knife that no doubt has felt the sweat of Granddad's hands a long time ago. Then almost as though I'd never seen it before, I realized that the beam of the rake was fashioned from a piece of , you guessed it, American Chestnut. How appropriate; a memory that reminds me of my past and within it a piece of that precious wood that Granddad figured would be no more.

We must always consider what our purpose is in being given the lives we live here on Earth. In some ways that was easier in Granddad's era. His purpose was to do what was required to keep himself and his family in provision. I believe he understood that all the provision came from God and even though he had to do the hard work, God provided the means and material. Once the rake is back together and in its place, it will be an even stronger reminder of the gratitude we all must have for those from whom we're descended and the everlasting faith we must have in a loving God.

Empty Cross

When I was approached by one of our church elders concerning the possibility of having an Easter sunrise service on our property, I was more than happy to say, "Sure." I spent some time thinking about just where might be the best spot to have the service and, once decided, considered how the site might be arranged. The plan emerged: some rustic seating and, as an afterthought, a matching lectern.

With the help of my son, a necessary ingredient more and more these days, we got to work. We were the beneficiaries of some good sized Hemlock logs due to the wind storm a year ago and used the trusty Woodmizer sawmill to slice two of them end to end. They became the rustic seating I had in mind. Once on site, we wrestled those half logs onto some short pieces and decided that they were plenty comfortable. Of course anything to sit on would have been ok by that time.

The lectern was to be made of two big chunks of White Oak that had been discarded because we ran into iron in the log when sawing back in October. The shorter piece intended for the top of the lectern already had one flat cut on it so that a second cut not quite parallel to it allowed it to sit atop the larger piece with a sloping surface on top. Once in place, Jon looked at it and said, "There's a cross on this." Sure enough; the stain that developed on the surface as a result of the iron weathering for months had left an undeniably cross shaped pattern. A small circle off to the side, also caused by the stain reminded us of the empty tomb that was discovered on that first Easter morning almost 2000 years ago.

One of Jesus' promises was to be with us always and little reminders like the stain on a piece of weathered wood keeps us aware of how He keeps His promises. We celebrate the empty cross. We celebrate the empty tomb. He is risen and His promise of eternal life will not be denied. I pray that you have a blessed Easter and remind one another of the power of the resurrection every day.

A Valuable Post or Two

If you have been following my Out of the Woodwork missives for a while, you know that one of my interests is in the restoration of the American Chestnut tree. I recently attended the spring meeting of the Pennsylvania/New Jersey chapter of The American Chestnut Tree Foundation and enjoyed seeing some well done woodworking using salvaged Chestnut. Because of the durability and rot resistance of Chestnut wood, there is a good bit of it around in old buildings. Chestnut was satisfactory for anything from the framing to the final trim and a considerable amount could be gleaned from a timber framed barn for instance.

But then another source became evident as I perused the hand crafted items on display. A woman was displaying items her father had made from salvaged fence posts. Because of its rot resistance, Chestnut was favored for fence posts and rails, many of them still sound although in use for over fifty years. One item on display was a simple yet delightful bud vase made by taking a short piece of old fence post, drilling a hole to accept a test tube and sanding and polishing the end grain. The contrast between the weathered surface of the post and the clean darker end grain showing the distinctive growth rings was eye catching.

Much to my delight, I came across an old fence row this week and although the barbed wire has mostly rusted away, the posts looked pretty solid. What do you know? These posts have been in the ground for at least fifty years and are as sound as the day they were put in. Although I won't be getting a big pile of lumber from them, these links to the past will provide material for a good number of small items that can be sold for the benefit of the efforts to restore what may well be the most valuable hardwood we have ever known.

Why Nut

One of the things to which I look forward is the spring meeting of the Pennsylvania/New Jersey chapter of The American Chestnut Tree Foundation. That will be coming up shortly and once more, I'll be reminded that there's always more to learn about the magnificent "Redwoods of the East" that, at one time, dominated our forest, constituting one out of every four trees in Pennsylvania. Think about that. In 1900, if you went into the forest in most of the American Chestnut's range (Georgia to Maine), and counted the trees as you came to them, every fourth one would have been a Chestnut tree. The tree was an undeniable asset to all who needed wood for almost any purpose and the nut crop was desired by human and animal alike.

By 1950, virtually every American Chestnut tree was dead. A blight arriving on American shores on imported Asian Chestnut trees did a quick and thorough job of eliminating what had sustained early settlers and citizens for hundreds of years. The efforts to develop a blight resistant tree with the characteristics of the original American Chestnut is ongoing and is the thrust of The American Chestnut Tree Foundation. The efforts to get a forest that once again is home to these wonderful trees has been supported by a true grass roots movement to reestablish something that was considered so valuable and now unknown by most who are alive today.

Knowing that there was such a thing as The American Chestnut Tree Foundation piqued my fascination. My father and grand father spoke often about the wonderful Chestnut trees and how the lumber from them was used for everything. Some buildings were made with no other wood, Chestnut finding its way into everything from the sill to the roof shingles. My grandfather's theory on the matter was simple. God had provided the Chestnut tree and, as is typical, man was not fully appreciative, So God took it away. To an extent, Granddad was right. Today, through the efforts of so many individuals, we are close to having a blight resistant tree that has most of the characteristics of the trees former generations had come to believe would always be around.

The efforts of the foundation are admirable and deserve support. I encourage you to take a look at work being done and support it. The work of the foundation mirrors the very essence of God's ways. We failed to appreciate what He had provided and, for awhile, the provision was withheld. The promise of those working in the foundation is to not be careless with our stewardship of all that we have been given. A personal piece of the program is an experimental orchard within walking distance to our home planted with hybrid Chestnut trees. I'd be pleased to have you take a look at it. 

Medicated

I had an interesting interaction today as a result of visiting my family doctor and attempting to get the followup prescription filled. The pharmacy where I usually get prescriptions filled informed me that they did not have the requested medicine and would not for some time. Helpfully, they indicated that the next pharmacy down the road (it's a hike to get such stuff out here, but I like the trade off) would be able to fill the script. What happened next was an eye opener, at least for these bleary old eyes of mime.

The prescription, of course, had the doctor's name on it. I was asked for my birth date and told the script would be filled in about 20 minutes. As I wandered across the street to confirm that the few items I needed were less expensive where I usually shop, I thought, "How will I ask for my meds at the pickup counter? They never asked for my name." Sure enough, "What is the name?" was the question when I asked if my order was ready. The order was ready and it came labeled with my name which is pretty spooky since I had never been in that store before or even one of the stores in that chain of drug stores. I suppose the 20 minutes involved a call to the doctor to confirm that the script was legitimate. Spooky still.

It occurred to me that lots of folks know lots about us and we may as well get used to it. Then I remembered that we have One who knows everything about us. Most importantly, He uses that knowledge only in ways to confirm His great love for us. I can't get too concerned about what "Big Brother" knows about me. My loving Father knows all there is to know about him too and will work even that out for those who love Him. Gotta go take some pills now. Hope you enjoyed the story.

Plane and Fancy

One of the first things that happens when boards come into the shop destined to become the project at hand is to plane those boards down to the desired thickness. So it was with some disappointment a few days ago that turning on the planer resulted in an uncomfortable silence in what is usually a very noisy machine. How could this be? That machine is only 25 years old or so. Truth is, we've been operating on borrowed time for a while now. After checking out the incoming voltage and connections, my son Jonathan and I figured the old motor had just given up. It began to look like the 200 board feet or so of lumber we hoped to have ready for next weekend would not get even the first step on their way to being the wall paneling we hoped to install.

Removing the motor was pretty straight forward although, weighing in at about 100 pounds, it was challenge enough. In the mean time, a great friend offered us the use of a smaller planer that he had in his shop. Today, Jonathan and I ran the boards through the generously loaned machine noting that though plenty wide enough, the amount the machine could remove in a single pass was considerably less than it's disabled big, motorless brother. After two passes through the borrowed machine, I checked my phone and the message from the motor repair shop was just what I wanted to hear. Just a bit over 48 hours after dropping the motor off, it was repaired and ready to be picked up. You better believe, I'll talk that repair shop up.

The planer is back in business and that loud noise it makes is somehow not nearly as annoying as it seemed to be. If it's possible for a siren-like 90 decibel noise to sound like music, that's what's happening now. Barring any other breakdown, we should be on schedule to have our material ready for the weekend. We will move forward assuming that will be the case. One thing that has been present in the whole situation is an attitude, on my part, of understanding that all our circumstances are under God's control. He wanted us to experience a slowdown and acceptance that all our plans must somehow fit into His grand plan. I'm grateful to be able to use the planer again and just as with His presence, I appreciate it a bit more.

Boxed In

Every once in a while, I get a request to build something for someone and over the years that has run the range from wooden spoons to log home houses. At this point, it's unlikely that houses are going to be in the realm of projects I'm willing to tackle. So it was a pleasure to say yes to a request for something that was relatively simple, yet still in need of some design considerations. Although making several of something once the design is workable, the idea of making just one of something, not likely to be repeated has a certain appeal. 

A long time good friend presented the opportunity to make a unique, although rather simple project. It seems the pastor of his church was planning to follow another call after serving in their church for twenty years. This pastor had a delightful twist to keep his congregation involved in his sermons. Each week he sent an empty shoe box home with one of his flock who was charged with the responsibility of returning the box the following Sunday with a mystery object inside that the pastor would somehow include in the day's sermon; quite a novel and challenging idea.

My friend wondered is I could make a wooden shoe box as a memento for the pastor to take with him as he moved on to the next place he would serve the Lord. The idea of a box with a contrasting lid came to mind. A wooden heart with an inscription from the congregation was another feature that hopefully will remind the pastor of the many lives he has touched. Being of Dutch heritage, I considered, only fleetingly, putting a pair of wooden shoes in the box as well. Maybe another time.

Although we recognize that being a pastor to a congregation is a calling from God, it is essential that we remember that we are all called to serve in one form or another. I truly believe that all sane people want to believe that their life has been lived with purpose. God created each of us with the same idea in mind. He has a purpose for our existence. Spend some time with Him and ask to what He is calling you.

Wood Shop Keeping

Sometimes the amount of time spent in the wood shop is disproportionate to the amount of woodworking that actually takes place. Today was pretty much a time like that. It was a matter of moving from one little maintenance job to the next. All the while avoiding the real reason for being there when I went there. Part of that dilemma had to do with the hesitation of attempting a new technique when there were some no brainers that could keep me from the one thing I really hoped to accomplish.

There was the matter of readjusting the motor mount on the lathe after replacing the drive belt. Then the rat's nest of power cords on some of the hand-held tools begged to be coiled up in such a way that a single tool could be picked up without being entangled in the cord of two others. Speaking of entangled, the roll of baling twine that used to dispense just like it should had gotten dropped and getting a length greater than a foot or two was a challenge. Oh, and the filters on the heater and dust collector had been ignored entirely too long.

All this stuff had to be done. But somehow it seemed like a couple hours had done nothing that would be considered woodworking. I have come to appreciate my wife's refrain that house cleaning is noticed only when it isn't done. Before heading home, I did tackle the job that I really wanted to do in the first place (gluing a thin applique of contrasting wood on another piece). Tomorrow will tell if that was successful or not. Maybe next time the finished item can be the subject of a post. In the meantime, be content with your situation, even it seems not a productive as you would like. I firmly believe that, no matter what's happening, God has you right where He wants you. Look around and ask Him what He would have you do there.

Alone with him and Him

Having people show up for "Out of the Woodwork", as I call the ministry that started several years ago when the guilt of how little the wood shop that my father left me was being used, is something that has convinced me that it was the right thing to do. Regardless of motives for showing up, most folks seem to genuinely enjoy being there. Not everyone does a lot of woodworking while there. Some come just to associate with one another and realize that some productive things are going on in this world that often leaves the impression that very little is happening in that category.

Today, I spent a couple hours in the shop. alone, at least physically, and moved the current project, or two, a bit closer to completion. Time alone in the shop has a very different feel in that there is no distraction and it's just me and the wood. The wood just tries to be wood and I try to make the wood become what I would have it be. It's in those times that I catch myself with a realization that there is a presence beyond me and the wood.

Time alone in the shop often gives a sense that I am not alone. There are spiritual visitors that are more apparent than when there are several people working there. Naturally, my father is one of those whose spirit I sense. "What do you think about what I've done with this space that you pretty much considered a private space in which you could escape the world?" is the question that forms in my mind.  I would like to believe that Dad is OK with what's going on. He gave it to me and did so with no great reservations or conditions.

It seems the analogy is clear. Our Father in Heaven has gifted all of us. Unquestionably, some have been bequeathed more than others. But all have been entrusted with what the Father entrusts them. As with all that is in my life whether a gift from my earthly father or not, it must be considered a gift from God. Jesus tells us, "To whom much has been given, much will be expected," Being a good steward of that with which we've been entrusted is essential. Hopefully, my father and my Father are pleased with what's happening at "Out of the Woodwork".

Mighty Who?

As agreed with my pastor a dozen or so years ago, I volunteer a few hours at church each week. Most of that happens on Mondays and Tuesdays. This has been good for me and hopefully good for the church as well. In addition to coordinating the small groups ministry, there is a good bit of minor maintenance stuff that occupies a good bit of the time spent there. The business of a little structured time has kept me from a stream of consciousness existence at least for two days a week. There are some other obligations on Thursday and Friday. So, jokingly, Wednesday is my day off and my journey to church Monday and Tuesday is referred to as "going to work". Everything we call work should be so rewarding.

This past Monday, my trip to "work" involved a funny, vibrating noise that I soon discovered changed pitch with varying speeds of the heater fan. In fact, at top speed, it seemed like the dashboard was going to come off. I put up with it (pretty bearable on lowest blower setting) until today (my day off if you recall), Armed with an assortment of screwdrivers and such I disassembled the necessary plastic parts to gain access to the recalcitrant heater motor. Because of where we live, what greeted me at that point was not too surprising.

Living in the woods has been a lifetime thing for me and I would not choose otherwise. However one constant in the arrangement is putting up with the critters that share the woods. It would seem a mouse had taken up residence in the heater system. building a nest with various parts of air filters and insulation material. Mice can get through such tiny holes that it's virtually impossible to keep them from invading such an inviting space. Although cleaning out acorns and replacing the cabin air filter is pretty much routine, the rascally rodent was never in there when I did this in the past. This time was different unlike the larger rodent who choose to come out last week, this little one stayed put and when the heater fan (think centrifuge) cranked up it did him in and, although small, his body was sufficient to really upset the balance of the fan. I can run the heater full speed now. But, hopefully, the larger rodent. Phil, was right and it won't be necessary.
 

Two Fire Night

Although we have an oil-fired hot water system that supplies the bulk of our home heating, we have always supplemented the oil by burning wood. That was accomplished for years with an old fashioned box stove that had been salvaged from a less than desirable storage situation. It worked, albeit with moderate efficiency. Since it was in the basement and warm air tends to rise, it did help limit the number of times the oilman had to show up.

Then a few years ago we replaced the old timer with a new air-tight model figuring that less wood would be required and it seemed a bit safer in that you could only see the fire through the glass door. The new, safer stove however had a shortcoming. The firebox capacity did not allow for the same amount of heat the old one did and the only really warm spot was in the basement in front of the stove. There has to be a better way.

A second stove in the form of a fireplace insert proved to be a good solution. We still buy some oil and appreciate the fact that going away for a day or two is not the problem it would be if wood was our only fuel. Our winters generally have been warmer the last few years and the stove in the basement rarely gets used. Tonight is different. The Polar Vortex, a term that had no meaning for me for seventy years is misbehaving and the temperature is supposed to be bitterly cold tonight and tomorrow. Tonight and the next couple nights as well will be two stove nights as we deal with this new, at least to me, creature called the Polar Vortex.

I am so grateful to have access to firewood and will plan to get a little more stacked up next year in case the situation repeats. Thinking that old  saw, "Money doesn't grow on trees."  should be revised. Thanks for reading and hoping you are warm wherever you may be.

Resting Up

Today was less than what I would call a productive one. Other than keeping the wood fire burning and opening the stuff that magically (almost) appeared from Amazon it was a matter of keeping my favorite chair occupied. There is some sort of bug going around and fortunately I, unlike many, have the option to rest up in hopes that my body, as it usually does, fights off the malady. I was so good at doing nothing today, it conjured up thoughts of running for congress. From what I see, some of those folks have figured out a way to capitalize on sitting still.

Tomorrow will be different. Some of that stuff Amazon sent will provide what's needed to make some repairs on broken equipment and, since it will be Thursday, there's things going on that will get me out of the chair. My Christian men's group starts the day with breakfast at the diner followed by some study of God's Word and sharing concerns. During the winter months, Thursday is also when I make soup for our church's weekly community meal each Thursday evening. The day ends with one of two regular weekly "Out of the Woodwork" sessions. Coming home after that will allow me a bit of time in my chair without the guilt I felt today.

To be fair, a good bit of my chair time today was spent reading a great book about the restoration of the American Chestnut tree. If you have a few minutes, (well, quite a few minutes) ask me about how that restoration effort is coming along. Any time spent reading can hardly be considered wasted. Right? There, I feel better about the day now. Thanks for the chance to explain myself.

Motoring On

In the wood shop, the real workhorse is the stationary circular saw. Some would call it a table saw or some other variation of the machine's possible names. Virtually every piece of wood that makes its way into a finished project is, at some point, sometimes various points, passed through the table saw. So it was important to figure out what to do when it became apparent that the motor that drives the saw started making disturbing noises and little pieces of the ball bearing on one end of the motor worked their way out into the open, This is not not the way things are supposed to be.

A replacement motor, though pretty expensive, was available and, although delayed a bit by "extreme weather conditions" was delivered in less than a week. We're back in business now and it would appear that replacing the bearing on the original motor will enable us to have a spare for the future. Repairing rather than replacing is usually my choice since we deal entirely too much with an attitude that says, "Get a new one:!". The saw is working fine for about one fourth the cost of replacing it and a spare motor is now available for about one tenth the cost of a new one.

I like the idea of fixing things rather than replacing them when its not ridiculously  out of the question. Fortunately our Father feels that way about us too. He has it within His power to replace us when we are broken. He has this wonderful thing called grace that is offered to all of us once we realize we are broken  If you're feeling a little worn out, just talk to Him about a refurbishing. He has promised to be with us until the end of the age.

Who's This For?

How much of what we do are we able to say is done for the benefit of others? When the ministry "Out of the Woodwork" was just getting started, I liked to tell myself that, "This is really not for me, but to give opportunity to others." Who knows? The idea of sharing tools and work space with others seems like a pretty altruistic thing to do and it might even put a star or two on that "good behavior" chart that someone somewhere must be keeping. It hasn't exactly worked out that way however.

It would seem that the primary beneficiary of the whole share the wood shop idea has turned out to be me. What started as a tentative, "if it doesn't work out we'll just stop doing it", turned into "if I stop doing this, it's going to leave a big hole in my life". Looking at how this has come about is perhaps instructive. At first, having the shop available regularly seemed like an obligation and needed to be fit into the "important" things I was doing. Somewhere along the line, that changed into "What would I do without this wonderful experience?"

If there is a key to what has allowed Out of the Woodwork to become a welcome habit rather than a nagging responsibility, it is a realization of something I had professed, but, at one time, failed to practice. Once we accept the idea that we posses nothing except for the grace of God, it becomes not only selfish, but downright sinful to refuse to share. So, here we are several years into the program and although there has been benefit to lots of people, no one has gained more than I. With what has God entrusted you? How are you sharing it? Don't hesitate. God trusted you with everything you have: time, talent, and treasure. You'll be closer to Him if you share it. 

Generation Next

One of the greatest things that can happen in our lives is to see folks younger than ourselves taking an interest in the things the older generation finds pleasurable and or worthwhile. So it was with some satisfaction that I got to spend some Out of the Woodwork time with my two granddaughters and my two sons. We got a chance to spend a couple hours making some useful stuff out of trees that grew not too far from where we turned them into items of utility.

Cutting boards are always fun projects for me ever since making the obligatory pig-shaped one for my mother in 7th grade shop class over 60 years ago. Dad ran that one through the planer a time or two over the years to smooth up the knife-scarred surface and although the pig got thinner, it still functions pretty much as it did when new. My daughter-in-law indicated that she would like a couple small boards to use as general use and sandwich servers and, inspired by her request, off to the wood shop we went. Each granddaughter made a cutting board making use of some tools that their great grandfather bought for the shop long before they were born and I have to believe that he was smiling with approval.

Should I be given the opportunity to work with my kids and grand kids in coming days that will be cherishable, The places where we get to intersect with the younger folks diminish, especially as they mature into adulthood. If you have opportunities to do things with your heirs, take advantage of the chance to make memories not just for you, but for them. Steven Covey, in his great book. The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People, suggested that habit number 2 was to consider what you would like people to say about you at your funeral. We would all do well to want those who survive us to say that we shared that which God gave us with the younger folks.