Twenty Seven

I am a little embarrassed that I just had to do the math again in my head and on my fingers to make sure that I am, in fact, turning twenty seven tomorrow. And I am. What a great blessing it has been to be on this Earth for 27 years! If you had asked me when I was younger where I thought I would be on the eve of my 27th birthday, I'd imagine it would be quite similar to where I am right this second. It probably would have sounded kind of like this:

At 27 I imagine myself very happily married. The kind of happy that is there even on my worst days, just because I have him. Most likely with some kids, who knows how many, as many as God feels I am capable of taking care if at 27 years old. I'd probably spend my days loving, teaching, encouraging, scolding, playing with, comforting and cuddling these tiny monsters who look up at me with big blue eyes and their daddy's smile. At night, before crawling into bed with my very favorite person in the world and laughing about the day's little moments with him, I would probably have to put the monsters to bed. Which entails laying in their room, listening to their made up jokes, tucking them in and kissing them to pieces, and holding their chubby little hands while they whisper, "Mom, I love you with all my heart." 

Yep. 27. Sounds pretty scary.