When Tim McGraw sang that onto the Billboard charts back in 2000, 30 was OLD. At least to me. It was like everything else was to me back then — career, marriage, health, kids — just far off in the future, important but insignificant, and to be dealt with later.

I blow out 30 candles next week. 30. Now I'm married. And kids are a viable option (sorta, I mean, give me five years and a little more certainty, please). I have a career and I'm in grad school studying to expand it. I have a house, monthly prescriptions, a retirement account, a nephew, a slowing metabolism and a budget.

At some point over the past 30 years, I grew up.

But I don't feel OLD. Will I ever? I hope not. In the meantime ...

  1. I'd like to grow my own vegetables and herbs, eliminate the sugars and all the processed crap from my diet.
  2. I want to get back in good enough shape to wear this bathing suit and run a half-marathon.
  3. I'd like to visit British Columbia, go snowboarding and hit the Bahamas.
  4. I want to work for myself, helping people break through the tough stuff in life and take steps toward their potential in Christ.
  5. I will keep my priorities in check — making hard decisions accordingly: God, husband, family, health, friends, school/work.
  6. I'll improve my memory by taking more pictures and writing about it (prolly here).
  7. I want to do what it takes to have the kind of marriage that sustains, supports, inspires and experiences joy over and over again. I will keep being the girl of his dreams.
  8. We'll have people over for dinner "just because," even if the house is messy.
  9. I'd like it all to be less and less about me and more and more about you.

My dreams aren't big ... and they're barely even specific ... but they're what I've got. I mean, success doesn't mean so much to me anymore. I value downtime. Family time. Fresh, low-calorie meals. Coffee. Simplicity. Less television and less internet. I've come to terms with the inevitability of ambiguity and chaos, learned not to hold to anything too tight. I am not shocked or impressed easily — everyone's got junk, and I think it's a point of connection, not dysfunction — that therein lies God's grace in the midst of total depravity. And I don't know if its the sertraline or a growing wisdom, but I don't feel a need to commit to more than a few things and a few people these days. I'd rather love better than like more, because people and relationships are more beautiful to me than they used to be. So is the warm glow of evening — the setting sun over water or peaking through trees. I like to bask. Adventure seems more elusive recently, but totally more alluring. Being fully present feels safer to me than being affected by the "mights" and "ifs" of the future and/or the past... and, yea, this is who I am ... headed toward where I'll be.

Bring it on baby. Love.