To Future Me, on the Day You Retire (Star Date: 07.05.30)

 To Future Me, on the Day You Retire (Star Date: 07.05.30)

Dear Michael,

You made it.

Today, you cross a beautiful threshold—from a lifetime of schedules, service, and steady purpose to the open road ahead. I know you still carry the same servant’s heart and the deep desire to bless others, but today, my friend, it’s time to fully unwrap the gift of freedom you’ve dreamed about for decades.

Remember those quiet mornings when you imagined wandering for months without a return ticket? That yearning wasn’t random. It was a glimpse into what God planted deep in your soul—a hunger for discovery, wonder, and new terrain. That hunger is holy. Don’t silence it.

So go. Really go.

Pack the pickleball paddles and tennis rackets. Strap the kayak to Lucy’s roof and tighten the laces on those well-worn hiking boots. Pour a glass of wine and share it with your bride under an unfamiliar sky. Laugh with old friends across the world. Make new ones on trails you’ve never walked. Let the road baptize you into this new chapter.

You spent your life writing stories of Jesus at work in the everyday. Now it’s time to write with Him, across borders and languages, in coffee shops and quiet coves. This isn't a break from your calling—it’s a continuation of it, written in the ink of freedom.

As Mr. Spock once said, "Change is the essential process of all existence." You’re not leaving behind the man you’ve been—you’re becoming even more of who you were always meant to be.

So boldly go, old friend. And as you do…

May you live long.
May you prosper.
And may others find courage in your journey to do the same.

With love, anticipation, and a knowing smile,
Me (Your younger self, still cheering you on)