I was always a curious child, and this curiosity gave birth to a bad reading habit. When I was about a quarter of the way into a novel — about where I would start becoming invested in the characters — I would impatiently flip to the end of the book to find out how the story ends. My eyes would quickly search for any clues that would reveal if the main characters would eventually survive or die, fall in love or find whatever it is they were searching for. I wanted to know ahead of time how the mysteries would be solved, and if I could expect a happy ending or not. After discovering how the story ended, I would flip back to where I left off. My curiosity assuaged, the anticipation gone.
How Will Your Story End?
I find that I do this less often with books now, but still attempt to treat life that way. As a single woman at thirty, I wonder whether I will eventually get married, or if it is God’s will for me to remain single. Not yet knowing the answer, I just want to flip to the right page to find out. As my parents continue getting older, I wonder how much time I have left with them. It would be great to know now if nonbelievers whom I love and have witnessed to for years will one day believe.
I find myself, like a detective, looking right and left for signs and clues for what will happen. How is this story going to end?