Dear Me 8 Years from now,
Hello! How are you? This isn’t just one of those famous intro questions that you hear at work, at the grocery store, on the playground (yes, you still went to playgrounds when you were 22- I hope you still are) but an honest question of how are you. I don’t want to hear good, I want to hear how you truly are.
As I write this letter I think about everything that has happened to me in this year of 2012, the year you were 22. The year I, Ariel at 22, am now. You graduated from college and got a chilling experience as your classmate with cerebral palsy got up from his wheel chair and walked across the graduation stage all by himself. You went to Israel and wept as you listened to other voices in other languages sing “Hallelujah, Christ the Lord has risen to day”. You began your first big girl job at an aninal hospital, and as that door ended you ran through the window of opportunity at Funcoast and the Sandusky Register. Do you remember the thrill you got when you walked in and smelled the ink and newspaper press? Adrenaline flowed through your veins as you interviewed skaters and took pictures at the Roller Girl Derby event.
You also started dating a terrific guy, who continues to remind you how much Christ loves his people.
I hope you’re still finding joy in the small things in life. In nature especially. I hope you always attempt to make nature a part of your life. It’s such a big part of you, and you always found yourself again while standing alone facing an unexplored woods. I hope you are still finding that excitement in the sunrises and sunsets you are facing today. If you are somewhat lost about discovering yourself, take a weekend off work, or of being a mom, whatever you’re doing right now, and go spend it in nature. I promise, you’ll find yourself again… if you give yourself that chance.
I hoped you have stopped biting your finger nails by now. You’re 30. I hope you have found the meaning of finger nail clippers.
Have you traveled recently? Why not? If the answers are because you’re married, because it costs too much, because of your job, or any other reason… Stop reasoning and go do it. Denise, your mom’s cousin, lives in Washington D.C. You should go visit her. GO! Same goes for your bucket list, have you crossed any items off recently?
This letter is a message of love and if it serves as a guilt trip too, then win, win. Don’t loose sight of what you wanted when you were my age now. You wanted big things. You wanted dreams to come true. Don’t become that cynical 30 year old that says things can happen, that dreams are just wishes on a star. They’re not.
I love you Ariel and hope that I am proud of who I’ve become when I read this letter next. Don’t stop learning and don’t stop loving. I hope by the time you’re 85, you don’t have a heart left because you have given it away, in God’s name, to your creator and to those around you. They need your love. Your brain. Your hands and feet. And quite possibly, some of your resources. May you always give things away freely. The beggar on the side of the road deserves more than your dollar, he deserves your apology for only giving a portion of something you, yourself are only a steward of.
May you be well. May you be joyful. May you be loving.
Signed,
Yourself at 22
