Last summer I met the son of a favorite great-uncle. My whole family was staying at a Minnesota fishing resort and when he came by, I, because I don’t like to meet people, at first let my mom go greet her cousin by herself. Eventually, though, I decided to be a grownup and go with my mom because I knew that it would make her happy to introduce one of her (occasionally antisocial) children.
He had the look of his father.
He was obviously the son of the man who had come from, in my young mind, far distant Montana, to visit his mother, his siblings, and their progeny, who scooped me up into his arms and held me high when I ran to him after waiting for what seemed like eternity for him to arrive, who came to spend Christmas with my grandma and our family the year my grandfather died, and the man who was ready to meet God when the car he was driving was hit by a drunk driver.
When I met my great uncle’s son, all I could say was, “I loved your dad.” He smiled so warmly and told me that he hears that a lot, many of the places that he goes and went on to say, “Proverbs tells us that a good name is to be treasured. I have that.” Indeed he did. His dad left good things in his wake. He left treasure: a good name
A good name is to be chosen rather than great riches, and favor is better than silver or gold.