Every day, with everything I do, I'm writing something. Not my diary, not even my resume. No, not even another Christian Week assignment.
It's my obituary.
Okay, not literally. But I'm very conscious of the legacy I'm leaving behind. Like Mandy Moore's character in the movie A Walk to Remember, I have a growing list of things I'd like to accomplish, experience, or become before I die. (I scribbled "going just one whole day without nasal allergies" off my list long ago - it seems that just ain't going to happen!)
This week I checked off two of them. First, I was asked to teach a Bible College course on Apocalyptic Literature (the area of my thesis research). Just call me "professor Ange."
And, I found out today that I won my first writing award, for a reflection I wrote in the MB Herald called "The sweet smell of simplicity" (see link). "She will be remembered as a writer, no - an award-winning writer!" I know I'm being silly, but sometimes a girl's gotta celebrate!
I can get carried away with the titles. When I'm dead will it matter to anyone whether I was a freelancer, a correspondent, or a columnist? Does anyone ask me my grade point average or words per minute at the grocery store? (They haven't, but next time you run into me at the meat counter and I'm not in a hurry, feel free.)
Just before someone does write my obituary, I'll be standing before God without a certificate, trophy, job title or congratulatory note to hide behind. I don't think he'll begrudge me my joy in the things I experienced on my list, but I know he will have more important things to ask me.
Like: Who am I to you? And who are you, without all of that? Did you graduate life with honours, or with honour?
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