"This award means you're really going places, Baby. You'll still be blogging about your great adventures 10 years from now, and I'll still be reading them."
The rules are that in order to accept this award, I have to express where I think my life will be in 10 years.
Man. If you'd asked me, when I was 18, where I thought I'd be in 10 years I never would have said Utah. I might have guessed that I'd be married with a couple of kids but I probably would have said that marriage would be to this hot guy I had my eye on in Psychology class. I'm not kidding when I say that he literally did not know I existed. Still, my plan was to woo him and wed him. The kids, they would have been conceived on the first try and would have pretty much popped out while I slept. I would have had one of them at 23 and one at 25 and now I would be contemplating whether or not there should be a third. I would bake cookies for my pastor's wife. If you'd told me that I would be one I would have laughed in your face and said something along the lines of how that doesn't fit into my plans. At 18 I still had grand ideas of spending my life signing autographs. So to say where I think I'll be 10 years from now seems impossibly difficult.
I hope that I will have grown tremendously. I hope that my faith is unwavering and that my knowledge of the Lord is expanded. After all, I'll be barrelling toward forty. My oldest son will be 13. My youngest son will be almost 11 and I hope he is celebrating his eleventh birthday with us, wherever we are. As for more children, I doubt it but you never know. I hope I'm no longer changing anyone's diapers. I don't know where we'll be living and ministering--though I hope in a decade we've begun to pull ourselves out of the financial mess we're in. I hope we've been able to stop the bleeding caused by the legal system and The Great Housing Debacle of 2007. Oh market, if only I'd had future vision. I hope we've paid back our adoption loan and are no longer making payments to any attorneys. Maybe I'll be thinking about how I want to take my husband on a cruise for his 50th birthday--which will only be a year and a few months away. If I could snap my fingers and make it all happen, I'd have a speaking ministry. My dog will be dead. He'd be 16 otherwise and that is really old for a golden retriever. Perhaps we'll have a new dog who sits at my feet while I write. I will probably have survived several more trials. I know I won't have it altogether. My thirteen-year-old will remind me of that every day.
If you blog on a regular basis and you have the desire to predict where you might be in ten years, consider yourself tagged.