When someone asks, “who are you?” the first response is usually your name. A name is not just a random conglomeration of letters, it does not represent your parents’ control over your life, nor is it the basis of your identity, but because it is yours and there has never been, nor will there ever be again, a you in this world, it is endowed with great meaning.
Next you may get the question, “what do you do?” It’s comical that these questions fit our description of “small talk,” when they pull back the curtain on the theater of our lives. This ocean of movement and identity that make up who we are and what we are doing on this planet is anything but small.
“Where are you from?” Where we are born, who we are born to, and at what point in history we live are all essential threads to weaving the fabric of our lives. Many spend their lives seeking to escape their pasts, while many never want to. There are those who formulate their identities solely through their roots, while others wrestle to find theirs in the midst of uprooting.
“Where are you going?” The first three questions ultimately lead into this one. Take who you are, what you do, and where you came from and tell me what it means. That’s tough. Some can’t seem to move, while others can’t be still. Some of us are invigorated by the mystery of the future, and then there are those of us who are crippled by the unknown.
My name is Taylor Conant. I am a high school English teacher. I am from Dodge City, Kansas.
Pretty simple. And yet, that is not all that I am…
I am a…
Teacher. Traveler. Student. Daughter. Aunt. Granddaughter. Sister. Friend. Follower. Leader. Lover. Dreamer. Wanderer. Reader. Writer. Young Life Leader. Fisherwoman. Francophile. Mediocre cook. Impersonator of accents. Beginner ukulele player. Board Game Enthusiast. Tea Drinker. Over-Thinker. Movie-Quoter. Novice Rapper. (Not really, but I wish…)
What I’m doing…
Teaching. Traveling. Learning. Fellowshipping. Worshipping. Praying. Searching. Following. Leading. Loving. Guiding. Growing. Wandering. Seeking.
I know where I’ve been, and I am daily striving to embrace the mystery of where I’m going. All I need to know is that I am known by The One who knows the future.
“Words, words, words.” – Hamlet, Act II, scene ii
Without meaning, without thought, with life breathed into them, words are a composition of letters, nonsensical symbols, twisting and curving scratches of ink. I am a seeker of a life story that is more than just words, words, words. I seek a story that is worthy of The One who Authored it.