Three years from now, I’ll be 62. That number still surprises me when I say it out loud, but I don’t feel old—not in the ways that matter. If I do this right, three years from now…
- I’ll be a more seasoned teacher, not just surviving the schedule but shaping it. Maybe I’ll finally have systems in place that make the grading less chaotic and the lessons more instinctive. Maybe I’ll be mentoring a new crop of teachers the way others once did for me.
- “Tumbleweeds” will no longer be a manuscript—it’ll be a book on a shelf. Maybe not a runaway bestseller, but something I can hold in my hands and say, I finished the thing I started.
- My bourbon shelf will probably still be ridiculous. But I’ll know more, taste more, and hopefully have just as much joy in sharing pours with friends as I do in writing about them.
- Daryl and I will be deeper into this season of life together. More quiet nights, more road trips, more inside jokes that make no sense to anyone else. Maybe even more dancing in unexpected places.
- Sully will be old enough to ask bigger questions, and I’ll still be the grandpa who answers them with stories.
Will everything be perfect? No. But if the next three years look anything like the last three in terms of grace, growth, and the surprising goodness of God, I’ll count myself blessed.
© Copyright 2025 Doug DeBolt.
Yes, be intintional!