More than a Mission Statement
I have been broadening my idea of Shimmering Ridge Sanctuary and what all I hope to accomplish here. It dawned on me that although I had formed it as a business, I hadn't yet written a mission statement. (puts on the old Business Admin. hat) That realization felt like something was actually missing from my work.
Every decision I make considers more factors than the immediate impact of what I want—and how I get it. I think about the forest, the creek, and the wildlife. I think about future generations and the people who will one day walk these trails. A mission statement seemed like the right place to begin putting those ideals into words, and onto paper, so to speak.
What it morphed into was so much bigger than I anticipated.
I thought I was writing a single business document. Instead, I found myself uncovering the philosophy that had quietly been guiding my decisions all along.
One document became another. A Mission Statement led to a Vision Statement. The Vision naturally led to Core Values. Those values became Stewardship Principles. In short order, I found myself writing something called The Steward's Compass—not because every business needs one, but because I realized I wanted every important decision made here to begin from the same place of thoughtful discernment.
As each page came together, something unexpected happened. None of these documents had the sterile feel that business documents usually do...
They felt like promises.
Promises to care for this land with humility.
Promises to leave it healthier than I found it.
Promises to think in generations rather than seasons.
Promises to value relationship over ownership.
Promises to remember that the needs of the people caring for the land matter alongside the needs of the land itself.
Promises to continue learning as this sacred land teaches me new ways of seeing and stewarding.
The more I wrote, the more I realized these were convictions that had been shaping my life for years. Writing them down simply gave them names.
One of the questions that emerged during this process has stayed with me more than any other:
If the land itself had a voice in this decision, what would it ask of those who tend it?
I don't know that I'll ever stop asking that question.
It works just as well for deciding where a trail should go as it does for considering the purchase of neighboring land. It belongs in conversations about stormwater management, habitat restoration, pollinator gardens, retreat planning, and even the pace at which the Sanctuary should grow.
It reminds me that the land isn't simply the setting for the work—It is one of the participants.
That may be the thing that surprised me most. I began this exercise believing I needed to organize a business. Instead, I found myself organizing a way of being.
The pages that emerged describe an organization, but they also describe the kind of steward I hope to become and the kind of place I hope Shimmering Ridge Sanctuary will always remain.
