Some things in life are always left unresolved. There’s always another task waiting, another chapter not quite finished, another question without a clean answer. I’ve come to accept that. Life doesn’t really wrap itself up with a bow.
That doesn’t mean, though, that we shouldn’t have goals.
If I’m honest, that’s where I’ve fallen short at times—not in effort, but in planning. I’ve spent stretches of my life living very much day to day, focused on getting through what’s right in front of me without looking far enough down the road at where I actually want to go. There’s a certain comfort in that kind of living, but also a quiet cost.
Teaching has leaned into that mindset. This second career has been something I’ve figured out one step at a time—lesson to lesson, year to year—without much long-range vision. At first, that was survival. Now, I’m finally getting my footing. Not mastery, not perfection—but a handle on it.
And that changes the question.
Scripture tells us that “the steps of a man are ordered by the Lord” (Psalm 37:23), but that doesn’t absolve us from thinking, praying, and planning. Trusting God with the future doesn’t mean drifting through it without intention.
Next year will be Year 10. When I started, I figured I’d teach for 20 years and call it quits around age 70. I’m closer to the halfway mark than the starting line now, which makes it fair—maybe necessary—to ask: What do I want the second half to look like?
Even if I publish a novel, I don’t expect it to be a golden ticket. I’ve always assumed I’d keep teaching. What I do hope is that writing—this book and whatever follows—gives me more traction in the classroom. More credibility. More ways to reach students. Maybe even a broader impact within the school or district.
I want to be the best yearbook advisor I can possibly be. I want to be the English teacher every student hopes to have at least once. I could say I’d like to be Teacher of the Year—and sure, that would be nice—but what I really want is to earn that title quietly, year after year, in the hearts and minds of my students.
If other teachers notice, that’s fine. But that’s not who I’m doing this for.
I’m there for my students. I want them to see the effort, the preparation, and the care behind what I do—not because it earns recognition, but because it reflects something deeper. “Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord” (Colossians 3:23). That standard doesn’t come with plaques or announcements, but it lasts longer than either.
So no, my life today isn’t exactly what I pictured a year ago. But maybe the picture is finally coming into focus—and this time, I’m not just trusting God with the road ahead. I’m actually looking down it.
Copyright © 2025 Doug DeBolt.
