Asking myself, What will this choice look like in 30 years? is one of my daily cornerstones that helps me live well.

In 30 years, you’ll have built on habit after habit and what you have is what you will have built, and I’m not talking about tangible things like a specific size house or brand of car. I’m talking about the status of your heart.

If I want my daughter to know she is loved at all times, I’ll teach rather than scold.
If I want her to know that her creativity matters, I’ll hold my tongue when that creativity takes us on a wild, messy ride.
If I want my own heart to know that God made me on purpose and for a purpose, I’ll write my words and nobody else’s.

I want a future that holds a long line of choices that point to all of the above, and more.

I do that by constantly asking and answering that one question:

What will this choice look like in 30 years?

If you’re wondering how to use that question for yourself, listen in here or read right below!

**What follows is most of episode 27: My ONE Question from the Praise Through It podcast. Listen here, or read on!

During our final episode together for the summer, I want to share one of my cornerstones for how I go about my days. It’s a question I ask myself as part of my daily life. It’s a question I seek to answer with every response or reaction, every way I choose to spend my time, every decision I make about my work, in my marriage and parenting, even down to the books I read and the things I eat.

One question.

Sounds so efficient, doesn’t it?

I came upon this one question when I became a parent. Suddenly I had this little face in front of me and I knew I wanted to raise a confident woman who knew how much her mama loved her. I figured, if I committed to those things, I’d get what I wanted. And for me, that all boiled down to one question:

What will this choice look like in 30 years?

It’s kind of a take on, “what if I died tomorrow’, but a much more lively version that maybe doesn’t encourage such a reckless YOLO kind of life. Kind of like having a bucket list - I actually call mine a Life List. I have a list of things I want to do in my lifetime, rather than a list of things I want to do before I die. A simple language change, but we go from death to life in an instant.

So, when do I ask myself this question?

All. The. Time. All the time.

When my child is being extra on a Tuesday and I am dying for some peace and quiet but I know scolding her isn’t the right thing but I’m not sure if I should ask her to be quiet because what if I’m killing her free will, I ask: what do I want this choice to look like in 30 years? And then I go from there.

In this case, I want my next step to look like a few things. I want to continue sowing seeds of a relationship with her so she wants to hang around me in 30 years. I also want her to be someone who respects boundaries and limits, and doesn’t just bulldoze whatever and whomever because she’s in the mood to put on a one woman show. So I balance the two in my response to her ‘extra’. Limits are learned in a way that preserves our relationship, and my head doesn’t explode from the noise. Win-win-win.

That’s one small example, and parenting is always an easy one to hit because there are 7 billion examples every day, but the question comes with me everywhere I go. It is my constant companion. It’s my frame of reference for every ‘no’ and every ‘yes’. I’ve trained my brain, body, mind, and spirit to ask and answer this question in a split-second’s time. It’s my way of preparing for a future I’m unsure of, but one I’m kind of sure how I want it to look.

I want my future to be full of people I love.
I want my future to be filled with lessons and grace and evidence of God’s love, toward myself, my people, and strangers - on the internet and in the real world.
I want my future to be full with a strong, mutually kind, laughing-all-the-time relationship with my daughter. Same goes for my husband.
I want my future to be full of good health.
I want my future to be part of a world where chocolate chip cookies are always available but I can eat 1 or 2 at a time instead of 7.
I want my future to be full of celebrations.
I want my future to be part of a world where strangers listen to one another, help one another, and don’t yell at one another.
I want barn doors somewhere in my house.
I want an outdoor space where I can write and not get eaten alive by gnats.
I want a future that includes my written words, out there in the world, as part of a legacy for my family.
I want a future that includes a line of people I’ve helped feel better.

I want a future that holds a long line of choices that point to all of the above, and more.

I do that by constantly asking and answering that one question:

What will this choice look like in 30 years?

It’s the little moments that make our lives.

It’s the way we respond to frustration from our spouse.
It’s the way we respond to a hurt feeling from a friend.
It’s the way we respond to a grumpy person out in public.
It’s the way we respond to a rejection.
It’s the way we respond to a rejoicing.
It’s the way we respond to a rainy day.
And it’s the way we respond to a sunny day.

I’m not saying we have to be perfect in our responses, and I’m not saying that what matters to me in 30 years should matter to you. That’s unrealistic. What I’m saying is it matters how we train our hearts, and I think that if we keep our focus on what we want and who we want to be in 30 years, our choices become a lot more clearer and our hearts receive a kind of training that isn’t so overwhelming.

Really, we’re just letting ourselves always be in the process of becoming the person we want to be. And in that training, our responses and reactions to everyday life become more of what we really want, because we’re training our hearts in that way.

If a friend hurts my feelings and I feel like withdrawing, cutting communication for a while so she “learns her lesson”, that doesn’t really foster the life I want in 30 years.

Forgiveness does.

If my spouse hurts my feelings and I lash out, making sure he knows exactly what I’m thinking when I’m thinking it, that doesn’t really foster the life I want in 30 years.

Boundaries with an accessible door do, though. Forgiveness does. Empathy does.

If I want my daughter to know she is loved at all times, I’ll teach rather than scold.
If I want her to know that her creativity matters, I’ll hold my tongue when that creativity takes us on a wild, messy ride.
If I want my own heart to know that God made me on purpose and for a purpose, I’ll write my words and nobody else’s.
If I want to foster community and kindness in my neighborhood, I’ll check on the lady with a walker and a tiny dog when a big snowstorm hits.
If I want to soak up the sun, I’ll balance my days so I can do that.
If I want to be a person who celebrates, I’ll get myself a celebration treat after I finish teaching a great Enneagram session.

I don’t want to just hope that I eventually get those things - the love, celebration, community. I want to make sure that I get those things by building them into who I am.

It doesn’t have to be a monumental shift all at once. It can be tiny ticks, one or two at a time, that point our hearts toward the life we want. The clock ticks one little bit at a time, and before we know it, 24 more hours have passed. It can be the same with training our hearts in these little choices that keep us on a path toward what we hope for our future selves.

I don’t know exactly what my life will look like in 30 years, but I know a few of the highlights I hope it includes. And there is so much out of my control, that I want to do what I can--I want to take what is in my control--and make it contribute to the life I want. And what is in my control is reacting and responding to my daily life in a way that points me toward rich relationships, volumes of writing whether in book or blog or podcast form, barn doors somewhere in my house, and chocolate chip cookies at the ready, 24/7.

My choices are for future me as much as they’re for present me.

I need to eat - that’s for present me. I’ll fill my plate with fruit and protein, that’s for present and future me.
I love chocolate. I’ll balance it so that I enjoy life but don’t get myself sick. That’s for present and future me.
I have a family. I’ll keep my heart soft and treat them with care and make sure our hearts are tethered, in the easy and in the really hard moments. That’s for present and future me.
I have friends who have brought immeasurable grace and laughter and love and joy into my life. I’ll keep them close. That’s for present and future me.

What’s true about daily life is it goes by so fast that it can be easy to succumb to being unhealthy because being intentionally healthy ‘in the moment’ can be a lot of work.

What’s also true about daily life is as it’s going by on a speed-racing conveyor belt, you’re building the life you’re going to lead in 30 years. In 30 years, you’ll have built on habit after habit and what you have is what you will have built, and I’m not talking about tangible things like a specific size house or brand of car. I’m talking about the status of your heart.

What’s true about training your heart is it fosters depth and beauty in immeasurable ways.

What’s right about training your heart is it ties it closer to God, the one who created you, the one who knows and loves the past, present and future you.

What’s pure about training your heart is the way it keeps you paying attention to what purely, truly matters during our short time here on earth.

What’s lovely about training your heart is it keeps you and your heart soft around the edges, eroding little by little the hardness that creeps in when we’re not paying attention.

What’s admirable about training your heart is the beautiful, soulful example you set for those around you.

What’s excellent about training your heart is how much of what you want, you achieve, with tiny incremental choices toward those things.

What’s praiseworthy about training your heart is how the grace and favor of God just pours over you as you see His love and His gift-giving heart work in your life.

As you seek to answer what your choices will look like in 30 years…

May you know deep in the wells of your heart that you are worth a beautiful, abundant, enjoyable life.
May you know through and through that imperfections make us human, not horrible, and it’s all pick-up-able.
May you learn to train your heart toward and tether your heart to the goodness of God.
May you learn to train your heart in a way that gives you the life you hope for today, tomorrow, and thirty years from now.

Show notes

Barn doors
My favorite chocolate chip cookies
Enneagram
Kellie Haddock

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