Dear 45-year-old me,
Well, I hope you’re happy. (Really, I do. That’s not sarcastic, despite my tendency to be so on regular occasion). I know you’re still married; you and the hubster work very hard to be the couple that you are. Do you have children? I hope so, I really hope so. I practiced being ready for a kid by having a cat, so obviously I am ready for motherhood. I hope it shows!
You’ve written a couple more books, I see. Are you still happy with that decision? I would be if I were you. You had so much fun writing stories! Remember how you had your friend type them for you, and she couldn’t read your short-hand? That’s because it’s not really short-hand! It’s what it’s always been: your brain moves faster than you can keep up with, Elisa. Have you learned yet to breathe deeply?
I hope you’ve remembered what really mattered to you when you were younger: family, friends, kindness, adventures big and small, and chocolate. I’m sure by now you’ve slowed down on the chocolate. Well, I can’t be so sure. You couldn’t even stop eating it during Lent! Maybe you’ve moved up to higher quality by now. Either way, I hope you’re still finding a balance like you used to.
45-year-old me, I don’t know if you’re still a school counselor, if you’re still an author, if you’re a mom, or if you’re all of those plus some. But whatever you’re doing, wherever you are, I hope you’ve held onto the kind of laughter you had at 30, the grace and silliness your house was always filled with between you and your husband, you and all your friends you had over so often. I hope that if you’ve lost something or someone important to you, you haven’t stopped living. I hope you’ve remembered all you’ve learned from your worn, written in and highlighted handbook for life (your Bible), and you’re still living out loud. I hope when people look in your eyes they continue to see kindness and humility, peace and truth.
All the best,
(soon-to-be) 30-year-old me
P.S. I really struggled with writing this, but someone requested it. Last week, the 15-year-old me was easy to address; I am pretty wisdomess (“Friends” line… 10 points if you know who said it!) at the ripe old age of 28, so I knew what I wanted to say to a teenage version of myself. But right now, as many people my age are, I’m caught in between dreams of yesterday and hopes for tomorrow. Where is the line between trying to make your dreams happen, and claiming that you will make them happen? It’s in that middle where faith lies, trusting that since I’m praying through my decisions, I’m making the right ones. Because what’s living if you’re not moving forward on the things God puts on your heart?
You tell me:
Where do you hope to be in 15 years? Who do you hope to be in 15 years?