A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches-Proverbs 22:1

I went to the cemetery on Easter Sunday to tend to the grave sites of the relatives on my father's side of the family. It was the perfect day to get out and do some minor landscaping. At first I went to the wrong spot and could not find the grave markers. I was somewhat panicked thinking how dare they move my family from their resting place. But, I got back in the car and drove to the next lot down, where to my relief lay my past.
As I hacked away at the overgrowth with a small hatchet that my dad gave me, I thought about these people just beneath my feet. My family tree. People I have not seen in over 35 years. Some that I have never seen or known at all. My father's real mother who died long before I was ever born. She passed away when my dad was just six years old. My grandfather who I didn't know all that well since he lived in Jersey and I grew up in Northeast Philly. Then there were great and grand relatives. Still, the common thread, the bond as it were, on every marker I viewed there was my same last name.
So away I swung, and then trimmed with a large knife until the markers were all visible and neatly kept. I bought one cross made out of wood and palms to place at my grandparents grave site. Since my father lives in Florida, I took some pictures so that he could see what I could see. Then I sat on the back of my car bumper and smoked a cigar as I contemplated my life while praying.
I thanked God for my life. That I lived long enough to see such a beautiful day knowing that I should have died long ago. That at an appointed time Jesus saw fit to save me from a life of sin, desperation and death. Wondering why He did, but grateful just the same.(For if our earthly parents love us, how much more does the Father love us.) It was Easter, so John 3:16 would be the obvious answer.
After almost 2 hours of labor, rest and prayer I drove away feeling connected. Like part of a family, most of whom I've never known. Still, they are my kin and there is a part of them in me. Their name is my name and I am proud to carry it to my own grave.
My father once told me of the three things that he was most grateful for. One of them was that he had two sons that have never shamed his name. Now I have not always been the person that I want to be, but that thought always looms in the back of my mind. I may not always be loved, liked or even tolerated, but I do strive to live a life worthy of the name given to me. And since I became a christian, I strive even more so not to shame the name that is above every name.
In the end, it is not possessions, worldly wealth or the prestige of position that matter. But, it is the honor of a good name and all that it connotes that will last.