50 years of what...
That is one thing that is screaming at me. That's for sure.
I keep thinking about the next phase of my life.
What's left? Whatever it is, I want it to count for something.
I want to make every day count.
The first 10 years of my life I rode on my first airplane, made friends, experienced an earthquake, and was a crossing guard.
In my teens, I got braces, moved from Georgia to Louisiana, played a little softball, joined a youth group, developed a relationship with Christ, and fell in love.
In my twenties I married that love (well okay I was 19 but I soon was 20), we joined a church we loved (love), bought a home, had 3 babies, and ran a day care.
In my thirties I tried to be the best mom I could be, raised teenagers, started working in the School system to bring needed income to our household and lost my dad.
I think this is the last hug we ever got.
In my forties I saw my children graduate from high school and college, watched my daughter get married in the most beautiful wedding I have ever attended, learned to play the guitar, saw such pain and heartache at the loss of our grandson Carson, experienced the largest life roller coaster at Avery's 2 lb. 2 oz. early birth, received the huge blessing of becoming a Nonna, went on a mission trip to Peru, and was excited to witness the proposal of my handsome son Mark to his beautiful fiance Paige.
That's a lot!
It makes me think - What in the world could my fifties hold?
More weddings, more grandbabies?...
Maybe, but what else?
Whatever it is, Lord, let me make every day count.