Letter to Me
Since my daughter’s tenth birthday last fall she’s tentatively entered the uncharted world of training bras, deodorant, razors, friendship drama, and boys. Providence has worked her way through books on her changing body and peppered me with no less than five hundred questions about the alterations that await her during puberty. I’ve regaled her with dozens of stories from my tween and teenage years but none have proven to be very reassuring. My sweet, naive little girl can’t fathom a world in which she doesn’t want to spend every waking moment with me; when she’ll shrug off my hugs, slam the door in my face, and choose a movie with friends over a family game night. She is dreading the day when she can no longer keep her hormones in check and she joins the bands of giggling girls who talk exclusively about cute boys and celebrity crushes. Right now a perfect day for her includes devouring a new animal fact book, creating imaginary habitats for her stuffed animals, a sleepover with her little brother, helping me cook dinner, and snuggling up for a family movie night. If we even speculate what it will be like when she starts driving or leaving for college, her eyes fill with panic and dread. Were Neverland an actual place, her bags would be packed; she is in no rush to grow up. Providence genuinely believes that right now is the very best season of her life. If she only knew. She’s been so concerned with becoming a selfish, egocentric teenager that she decided to write a letter to her future self in hopes of curbing the inevitable. (Her letter is pictured below.) As I tucked her letter away for safe keeping until her sixteenth birthday, I was reminded of an old country song by Brad Paisley, Letter to Me. Brad sings of what he’d say to his seventeen-year-old self if he could send a letter back in time. Whenever I hear it I start to wonder what I’d say if I could do the same. What would the thirty-nine-year-old me say to the seventeen-year-old confused, dramatic, body-conscious, attention seeker version of myself if given the chance? Here’s what I came up with.
Dear Anne Marie,
Wear sunscreen. Right now you think a tan is “sexy” but let me tell you, age spots, freckles, and skin cancer are not. And stop eating cookie dough like there’s no tomorrow. You will not be a size 2 forever and your poor eating habits will feel impossible to break when your metabolism betrays you. On that note, you need to know your weight does not determine your worth. I know you’re hiding diet pills and cans of Slim-Fast in your room and it breaks my heart. The messages you’re hearing from your boyfriend, your friends, and your magazines are lies. Your body is not what makes you beautiful. You won’t find your value in your reflection, in your boyfriend’s love notes, or party invitations; you’ll find it in the pages of your Bible. But still, grow out your bangs, tweeze your eyebrows, and don’t even think about dying your hair anything but brown. Just don’t.
Keep saying yes to adventure. You are right on the cusp of your most valuable life experiences. I’m so proud of your willingness to step outside your comfort zone, travel the world, and engage in new relationships. Don’t let yourself forget how much FUN it is to try new things and venture outside the walls of your home. You have an eclectic taste in music, people, and places. Adulthood will try to squelch this. Don’t let it. Keep your mind open and your horizons broad.
Don’t quit the piano or the choir. I know the theory homework is boring and you have no aspirations to be a professional pianist or vocalist, (you never will), but if you walk away from them entirely, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. Keep practicing and honing your skills. The ability to make music is a gift that will keep on giving.
You’ve surrounded yourself with really fantastic friends, both at church and at school. I’m so proud of you for choosing friends who don’t pressure you. They are great influences on you. Stick with them and you’ll stay out of trouble. That being said, they’ll be the first ones to show up at your job at See’s Candies and make fun of your velcro belt, white nylons, and orthopedic shoes. (Can you really blame them?)
Don’t get mad when your house gets toilet papered. You’ve done the same to others literally dozens of times and not once did they call you and chew you out. Be a good sport. You had it coming.
Stop rolling through stop signs, speeding, and driving with oversized decor hanging from your rearview mirror. Don’t drive with the gas light on and make sure to check your headlights before you pull out at night. And no, offering an assortment of jellybeans to the officers who pull you over is not a good idea. That note you’ll find on your windshield after school with contact info and an insurance policy number on it is not “random.” Don’t throw it away.
Pick a different dress for Junior Prom. Pastel blue is not your color, and the fairytale princess-style dress is not one of a kind. Trust me on this. (Oh and don’t forget to remove the tag, because that’s embarrassing.) Speaking of prom, stick with your own date. That really hot Korean guy your friend Sarah came with will take you on an emotional rollercoaster for the rest of your high school days. He’s a lot of fun, I know, but keep it platonic. You’ll thank yourself later.
Stop rolling your eyes at your Mom and shrugging off your Dad’s hugs. They are ridiculously generous to you; the least you can do is receive their “I love you’s” and “I’m proud of you’s” with humility and gratitude. They trust you and keep you on a very long leash; stop taking advantage of it. Thank them by telling them the truth all the time, every time. They deserve it.
Keep trying with your brother. He’s a tough nut to crack, but you have more in common than you think. You may not believe it but he loves you (and he likes you way more than he lets on). In his own quiet way, he’s looking out for you. Find ways to connect with him. Be intentional. Make efforts to understand him and love him in the ways he needs you to. He needs your encouragement and you need his. Don’t give up on your relationship with him. And I know you think sharing a bathroom with him is grosser than gross, but just wait until you have a son. It can get grosser.
That call you felt to full-time ministry at summer camp? You didn’t mishear it. God has beautiful plans for you. That tug on your heart to be an adoptive mother? You didn’t mishear it either. You should see your kids. They are gorgeous and worth every bit of the painful journey that lies ahead.
Your enjoyment of letter writing is more than just a hobby, it’s a ministry. You don’t realize it but God is using your letters to encourage your family. Your Uncle Harold, your Oma, and Opa- they are being loved by your written words. They will leave this Earth knowing you cared for them. Keep putting pen to paper. Keep telling others they are special. It means more than you know.
Right now you think one of your awesome guy friends from church will be waiting for you at the end of the aisle. They are God-fearing young men who are going places. They are loving, respectful, and downright handsome. They will all make wonderful husbands… for someone else. Your husband is still far in your future. I know it’s hard for you to imagine, but he blows all your current options out of the water. He will be worth the wait.
You’re itching for independence. It will come soon enough. Just be grateful for your home base. You have a safe place to land, always. Don’t take that for granted.
More than anything I want to tell you to embrace truth. Reconcile who you truly are with who you want to be. This double life you’re living will exhaust your soul. Own your sinful desires. Recognize the pull the world has on you, then ask for help. You don’t have to learn everything the hard way.
You will always be a work in progress. You will never have it all figured out. Even though right now you don’t love yourself well, God does. Stay in His word and in communion with Him. He will show you exactly who you’re meant to be.
Love,
You
“Have no fear, these are nowhere near the best days of your life.” -Brad Paisley, Letter to Me
Dear Future Self
Written by Providence Joy, age 10.5, June 2022