Fitzroy Square. Cream buildings, a veritable heritage.

Leaves swirling, greyly autumn.

Blue plaques on walls to mark the homes of famous men and women.

I look and read and try to imagine this or that person living in this space, looking out of that window, watching these trees shed their leaves. A blue plaque as living legacy, reminder of who they were, what they did, the length of their stay.

And I think of my legacy. What will I leave? Who would want to remember me?

My children, offspring from our marriage, carried in my heart and on my hip for so long, and now carried simply in my heart - as they carry their own on hip and in heart.

They will remember. But what will they remember; and their children, my grandchildren, and perhaps their children too. What will they remember of me? What will they remember me for?

And the only thing I want for my legacy is that it should be my prayers for them. Prayers reaching down through the generations, unto the third and fourth generation. To pray for my children, for their children and their children’s children. For them and their spouses and their children’s children to be those who love the Lord, who live for Him and give their all for Him.

I think of my legacy; and think, hope, pray, that it’s not too late, that there is time for the prayer to continue and to reach forward into the future, their future.

So I slow down, walking more slowly, taking time to look at the blue plaques, praying for those precious descendants. And I want more time; time to pray. I want time to slow and allow me moments more in prayer, moments to talk to my offspring, to tell them what’s really important to me. To whisper His story to my grandchildren and great-grandchildren, tell them of the Lord’s great love for them and of mine too, a shadow of His.

My footsteps carry me on and Fitzroy Square is behind. I quicken, conscious of dawdling, hurrying once again to the time-busyness of busy London around me. Yet deep inside I know: my legacy has time to deepen and develop. I need not hurry on. This one race is not the one I want to win – there’s no prize for being the first over the finishing line of life.

Instead, God grant me the time to pray it forward, tell it to my descendants, live it out the best I can for them.

“And I will pour out my Spirit on your descendants, and my blessing on your children. They will thrive like watered grass, like willows on a riverbank.  Some will proudly claim, ‘I belong to the Lord.’  Others will say, ‘I am a descendant of Jacob.’  Some will write the Lord’s name on their hands  and will take the name of Israel as their own.” ISAIAH 44:3-5 (NLT)