
The memory of the just is blessed: but the name of the wicked shall rot. — Proverbs 10:7 KJV
The name of the righteous is used in blessings, but the name of the wicked will rot. — Proverbs 10:7 NIV
Reflection
Every one of us is leaving something behind. All people whom the Lord has placed in our lives for us to be able to touch will be marked by the impact of our lives in a way that cannot be erased. This adage serves as a reminder to us that our legacy will continue on long after we are gone.
If we spend our lives in such a way that honors God and serves others, then the legacy we leave behind will be a source of unending goodness for those who come after us. If, on the other hand, our lives have been given over to wickedness, then the odor of something helpful that has turned sour and something long-lasting that has been allowed to rot will linger after we are gone.
My Prayer
O Almighty God, may the lives of my children and the children of my children be richly blessed by the example of my life, regardless of whether those offspring are physical or spiritual. I pray that the impact of my work brings honor to you and also helps others become acquainted with you and your grace.
Please forgive me when I am unable to recognize the extent of the shadow that my influence throws, and assist me in recognizing those people whom you have specifically brought my way in order for me to bless with your grace. In Jesus name I pray. Amen.
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Alona Smith writes like she sketches—quick strokes, bold colors, no eraser. She ran a small-town art studio before VerseForTheDay invited her to swap charcoal for chapters, yet paint still flecks her keyboard. Dawn finds her barefoot on the porch, swirling watercolors across a travel Bible, letting sunrise seep into the margins. Neighbors wave as she bikes to the farmers’ market, basket rattling with sunflowers and Psalms scribbled on kraft-paper price tags.Alona trusts that Scripture behaves like clay: press your palms in, and a vessel appears where empty air once lived. Afternoon workshops with foster teens prove the point; they mold hope into coffee mugs, then watch steam carry it forward.Diplomas? Only framed sketches of hands lifted in worship. Awards? A dog-eared gratitude list taped to her fridge. Open her reflections when cynicism scratches—she’ll slide a brush into your grip and show you light hiding in the smear of everyday color.