When all is said and done, I don’t care if they remember my rules.
I hope they remember that I stayed.
That I kept showing up.
That I said “I love you” more times than they could count — even when they didn’t believe it yet.
I hope they remember that I wasn’t afraid of their brokenness.
That I let them be messy.
That I pointed them to a God who loved them more than I ever could.
I hope they remember my hugs.
My prayers.
My patience.
My presence.
Not perfectly — just consistently.
Because legacy isn’t built in grand gestures.
It’s built in ordinary moments, repeated with love.
That’s the kind of man I want to be.
A man in the gap.