I never actually met Theodore, but he was practically a legend at my house when I was a kid. Hardly a family meal went by when my mom or dad didn’t call one of us kids “Theodore” when they caught us displaying poor table manners.
After hearing his name used in vain so many times, I decided I needed some background info on Theodore, this notorious ignorer of the rules of etiquette. My parents explained that he was a student who lived in the college dormitory my parents directed when they were newlyweds. Back in those days, the early 1950s, students and “dorm parents” apparently dined together and boy, did Theodore make an impression.
Elbows on the table? “Theodore.”
Chewing with your mouth open? “Theodore.”
Forget to put your napkin on your lap? “Theodore.”
Reach across the table for a roll instead of politely asking someone to pass the basket to you? “Theodore.”
I got the impression that eating with Theodore must’ve been quite a food-grabbing, elbow-flying, mouth-smacking free-for-all. Like watching a ravenous lion devour a felled wildebeest.
I eventually did gain an appreciation for the table manners my parents so painstakingly tried to teach us. I’m not sure I could pass muster if I were to dine at Buckingham Palace, but I’ve thus far been able to navigate most of the social situations I’ve found myself in.
I do wonder, though, about poor Theodore. Did he find a wife willing to tolerate or even reform his atrocious manners, like a sculptor chiseling away on a huge chunk of marble? Or did he end up alone, smacking his food, elbows firmly planted on the table, for all his days?
Whatever his life looked like, Theodore probably never dreamed he’d serve as a cautionary tale for three youngsters coming behind him. I chose not to employ his name when I was attempting to teach my own boys, albeit it far less aggressively than my parents taught me, some semblance of table manners. Better to let Theodore’s legacy, having served its noble purpose, end with me and my brothers, I decided.
I must say, though, that Theodore does continue to teach as he reminds me to pause and ponder the legacy I’m leaving behind. If those in future generations ever remember me, will those memories be fond and inspiring or serve as a cautionary tale?
Psalm 71:18 says, “And even when I am old and gray, O God, do not forsake me, until I declare Your strength to this generation, Your power to all who are to come.”
We who are “of a certain age” are sometimes prone to feel like we’re irrelevant and that we have nothing to offer those coming up behind us, but that’s not necessarily true. At least not if we continue to grow and learn, and our words are seasoned with grace and wisdom about the faithfulness and power of our great God.
As a line from a current, popular worship song says, “If I’m still here then You’re not done.” That’s a fact. Our mission may change but it doesn’t end.
I’m so thankful the Lord has always graced my life with Christ-followers who are further down the path and willing to teach, warn and encourage me, and I now want to be that person for those coming behind.
I heard a pastor say one time that if we get a big head and think we’re “all that,” we need to remember that when we die, our family and friends are just going to stick us in the ground, throw dirt on top of us, and go and eat potato salad. I understand the point he was making, but the truth is, some people will likely remember us.
The question is, what will we be remembered for?