I turn 30 in 3 months. And 30 feels big. If I type that too loudly, though, my husband – who's about to be 40 – will give me the look.
On the advice of my priest, I'm attempting to envision my day 20 years from now.
- What will I be doing?
- How will I spend my morning?
- What am excited to build into my day?
That's also big. It's like staring up at a mountain. The summit is there – it exists. But the finer details are lost when you're staring, slack-jawed at the base of the mountain.
If I'm granted 20 years of time, I'd love to look down from the mountain and be pleased with the journey so far. I'd like to savor the conversations had with other sojourners, and thank the sherpas who shared the burden. I'd like to shout to those below the encouragements of those who went before me, "You won't believe how beautiful it is up here!"
And more than anything I'd like to be surprised by something at the summit. Maybe it's a bridge hidden from view that leads to another ascent. Or maybe it's a yeti (a friendly one).
In the last year I've made some big changes: financial, physical, nutritional, spiritual, vocational, and relational. It's striking how much can change in a year (whether planned for or not), and I'm thrilled to see what happens in the next 365.
Fortunately, I figured out one thing about my day 20 years from now. It still starts with bacon and eggs.