Dear Me . . .
by V.V. Denman | @vvdenman
Dear Fifteen-year-old Me,
Looking back over thirty years of ups and downs, I have some things I’d like to tell you. Most importantly is this:
You are normal.
Even though you think you’re an oddball, you’re not. You are a healthy, well-adjusted teenager. All those confident girls you envy? They feel just like you. It’ll be years before you realize this, but don’t worry. That’s normal too.
Don’t wish your sisters away. They may drive you crazy now, but they turn out to be your best friends. They understand you. After all, you came from the same place. Speaking of Mom and Dad, go easy on them. They love you enormously and will bless your life and the lives of your children beyond your imagination.
Okay, now. I hate to tell you this, but that football player will break up with you soon, and you’ll cry for months. Yes, he’s a great guy, but wrong for you. Besides, you should get to know yourself without a boyfriend. You have worth. You are special, and God has a plan for you. Even though you never get wise about dating, somehow He blesses you with a man so true and good that you begin to like yourself for you.
Remember the summer after sixth grade when you boxed up your baby dolls . . . even though you weren’t finished playing with them? I know that only added to your feelings of abnormality, but all that practice pays off. You end up with a houseful of real babies who are much more fun to hold.
And then in seventh grade, Mrs. Tuggle kept the class late just so she could hear the end of your short story. Remember that day? That was the first writing assignment you ever enjoyed, and it felt good to hold the tension right to the last line. Sorry, but that was also the last writing assignment you ever enjoyed. It will be twenty-seven years before you discover creative writing again. In the meantime, could you put more effort into your vocabulary tests? You’ll be glad later.
I remember how you enjoy the band and flag corps, but watch out for your bossy streak. If you’ll ease up a little, you’ll learn leadership skills that will help when you home school your children. You’ll still be bossy, but at least by then, you recognize it. (Home school? It’s a new concept where parents teach their kids at home. Weird, I know. It will take you a while to warm up to the idea.)
More than anything, please realize that Satan feasts on your insecurity. He’ll mess with your mind when you go to college, telling you you’re a failure. And you’ll listen to him since he sounds so much like God. Satan’s good at that. To make up for the doubt he instills, you’ll frantically try to be a better Christian . . . for all the wrong reasons.
God is the other voice. He says things like, “Hey, girl. I like you. I really like you. Yes, I know you’ve got problems, but we can work on them together. Here, take my hand.”
So, fifteen-year-old self, please listen to the right voice. The one that loves, adores, cherishes you. He’s telling you the truth. You are normal. You are worthy. You are special.
You are His.
And a few more things while I’m at it . . .
- Please keep wearing the retainers. The orthodontist lied. The teeth move.
- Straightening your hair will never work well for you.
- Your suspicions prove true: you will always be flat-chested.
Sincerely, Your forty-five year old self
What would you tell your younger you?
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