I Know What I’m Fighting For

Our family, more than ten years ago.

If the next ten years became the most meaningful decade of your life, what would you have done with them?

I’ve been sitting with that question myself. Today, I’m taking you into November 2036, writing as though I’m there, looking around at the life I’ve lived and the people I get to share it with.

I’m now 62. I’m here. I’m cancer free, healthy, and strong. I’m free of the pain from cancer and everything it took to fight it. I no longer need medication to manage the effects of cancer, surgery, radiation, or chemo.

I get out of bed with ease. I take my time, drink my coffee, read, journal, and get my body moving. I walk, run, hike, or do yoga. I still have a warrior heart full of love, peace, and strength. I know who I am, where I’m heading, and why.

Some mornings, the dogs and grandkids have other plans. Nicole and I laugh at the noise. We’re grateful we get to experience it. We still have the fun house, where our kids, grandkids, friends, and family want to gather, hang out, and have fun.

My bride is now 56, and I’m more deeply in love with her than ever. We laugh, flirt, and keep finding ways to surprise each other. I’m still poking her and squeezing her butt daily. We’ve used the gifts God gave us to overcome the obstacles in front of us, including knowing when to ask for help.

Zac is now 33. Aspen is 31. I’ve spoken at both of their weddings. With my own voice. I had so much to say, and I was there to say it.

They’re happily married, and I love the humans they chose. They’re doing work they love, work that challenges them and puts their gifts to use. They’ve found purpose and are pursuing it. When I watch how they love their families, I recognize some of what they learned watching Nicole and me.

Saturday mornings during college football season are still a ritual, and the grandkids love it, too. I’m still a die-hard Cowboys fan. They’ve surprised the heck out of me and won at least one more Super Bowl. They don’t piss me off nearly as much anymore. I’ve accepted that I have absolutely zero control over whether they win.

Our entire family is living their 10-Year Letters. We have our own lives and adventures, and we love coming together to share them.

Nicole and I are financially free and working as passionately as ever. The 10-Year Letter has become a global movement. It’s in churches, schools, and corporations around the world. Millions have been inspired to author their futures and live what they wrote.

Exceptional humans have joined us. Their talents and hearts are behind the growth. They lead, create, and teach with strengths I don’t have. Some of their kids are involved now, bringing their own gifts. The relationships we’ve built are deeply meaningful.

I’ve learned how many doors open when I go deeper into one subject. The more I learn, the more curious I become. Twenty-five years into this work, I’m still excited to listen, learn, teach, and share.

We’ve brought The 10-Year Letter to catamarans, cruise ships, and resorts. Nicole and I have spent a month on a catamaran and stayed on islands a month at a time. We teach, explore, and get to know people. We hear what they’ve written and, later, what they’ve lived. Their stories keep teaching us. We’re living our letters while helping others live theirs.

We even figured out how to bring Papa Chuy’s taco stand into the mix. Delivering happiness, one taco at a time, on the beach. I still enjoy a chilled cerveza and a shot of tequila every now and then.

People send pictures of their books and journals from around the world, like Flat Stanley has joined the movement. “We’re out 10-Year Lettering.” It’s become a verb.

We give time and money to cancer solutions and scholarships for people who need help turning their letters into reality. The work gives us more freedom and more to contribute. We come home from our travels excited to see our family and have everyone over.

The investments in my health, wealth, relationships, and joy have compounded. I feel it in my body, our freedom, our friendships, and how much fun we’re having.

I have more meaningful tattoos, still ride my Harley, and drive my CJ7 Jeep every chance I get. We camp, raft, ski, hike, and fish, along with whatever adventure I come up with on the spur of the moment. My grandkids can’t believe they have a hard time keeping up with me.

With the right help and adaptations, I’ve found ways to do meaningful things I was told wouldn’t be possible after a total laryngectomy. I’ve jumped out of planes, ridden an ostrich a time or two, and caught and released every fish on my list. More fish this decade than all the previous decades combined.

Nicole and I are still drawn to rivers, oceans, lakes, and mountains. We make time to slow down there and listen when God is speaking. My faith is at the forefront of each day.

There are people I love who are no longer here, and I miss them. Each loss has made me slow down and recognize their gifts, what they taught me, and how I’m different because I knew them. I’m grateful for our time together. I still wish we’d had more.

I go out of my way to see the people I love, even if it’s only once or twice a year. We tell each other the truth. We ask for help. When I lose my way, I slow down, breathe, pray, and reread my letter. I’ve let go of things that no longer serve my life and mission. I love deeply, play fully, and take myself a little less seriously.

Looking back, I’m grateful I kept fighting when I was exhausted and afraid. That I accepted help and kept showing up. I know what all in feels like. I know what half-assed feels like, too. Both can be painful. I choose the hard that serves the life I’m here to live.

Back here in November 2026, I can’t control everything ahead. But I can see the life I’m committed to living, and I’m doing everything within my control to give myself the chance.

I know what I’m fighting for.

If the next ten years became the most meaningful decade of your life, what would you have done with them?

Give yourself time to see it. Then bring something from that future into today.

Write a future you’re excited to live.