Let’s Begin with an Ending
In January of this year, I was asked to write my “future story,” i.e. where I see myself in five or ten years,and this is what I wrote:
Five or ten years from now I want to be more of Kyndall, as God intended, and less of anything else, and I think that would look something like this:
I hope to have unleashed new creativity.
I hope to be a person of prayer, to have settled into a rhythm that aids my consciousness in doing all work with God and to God.
I hope to have a deeper appreciation for art, music, beauty, nature, and language.
I hope to have loved at least one person or family who is markedly different from me to such extent that the repercussions on my way of life are irrevocable.
I hope to have eaten lots of fruits and vegetables, and to have grown some of them myself.
I hope to have read a lot of books—mostly novels, but also poetry, theology, philosophy, and other genres.
I hope to have become a writer—published or not—to have plenty more works than a pile of sermon manuscripts.
I hope to have been a loving and faithful wife who has supported my husband in finding his best self and forgiven him when he’s been at his worst.
I hope to have and to keep a handful of serious friends.
I hope to have found subtle and small ways to live counter to the culture of scurry, the culture of wealth, the culture of arrogance, and the culture of individualism.
I hope that if there was one thing those I have ministered to could say about me, it would that I listened to them, and if there was one thing my church could say about me, it would that I relentlessly guarded the value of each person, and if there were two things they could say about my preaching, it would be that I helped bring Scripture to life in their imaginations and bring God to focus in their line of vision, and if there was one thing they could say about our church, it would be that it helps them hold tight to hope, and if there was one thing they could say about our worship, they would say that it occasions subtle collisions with the divine.
I would hope that my character might match that of my church, which tries to be slow, gentle, thoughtful, peaceful, and attentive to children.
I hope I will have grown more honest and more brave, with a courage markedly of my own flavor and not of the style people expect.
I hope to have resisted any “sophisticated thought” that would lure me away from the simple goodness of random acts of kindness and spontaneous generosity.
I hope to have approached spirituality holistically, paying attention to both body and spirit, and weighing choices in terms of what is best for the planet and its people.
In five or ten years, I would hope that my roots would have begun to sink down deep, and that I would know this one place and its people, that I would still be content with modest ambitions yet wildly willing for God-sized adventures.
To the blossoming of me,