Dear Me,

Dear 2 year old Me, accepting that cookie from Granny may have been one of the better judgment calls of your entire life, both before and after the cookie incident.

Dear Toddler I used to be, way to go with the earring campaign, I still appreciate you for that.

Dear 3 year old Me, there are somethings you will never understand. There are somethings that you will, eventually.

Dear 4 year old, the brothers never tame down.

Dear 5 year old Self, good move at the fair. As the years go by, you will dig, and search, and study, and strain to understand what it means to be to be a good Christian. You will try to be really great, really deep, really intellectual. You will dabble in legalism, you will try to buy your salvation with works. You will struggle to understand what the most important goal is as a Christian for years only to come to the conclusion that the simple theology you had when you made the decision originally was the best one all along. Also, eventually, you do learn that "Disciple" is not just another word for "Leveled-Up Christian." It doesn't really work like a video game. Maybe you didn't need to hold a big tent revival for your 3 year old brother on his bunk bed that night, though. He's still got some time to mature a little.

Dear 6 year old Self, you don't end up becoming a trash truck driver, but it's okay, because in the long run, you don't really regret it. You do, however, do your fair share of dealing with garbage-both figuratively and literally- and you learn not to be so squeamish about it.

Dear 7 year old, braces are more than just teeth jewelry. As much as you think you might like them, you really won't find them as pleasant as they look.

Dear 8 year old Me, someday, you are going to have a portable, wireless phone that can send and receive messages like a pager, plays music, has a calculator, clock, and a build in digital camera that can transmit pictures to other people's phones, has games on it, has a digital address book. AND, it will be yours and yours alone, and here's the real mind blowing thing: it will be small enough to fit in your pocket, and almost everyone will have one (even some 8 year olds). Seriously.

Dear 9 year old with an "all day headgear," it's only for a short span of time. There are far more painful, longer lasting, humiliating experiences that will make this one almost forgettable. On a side note, you're not going to be an Olympic Gymnast. You're too tall, and while you've got determination, it's just not going to be enough. The good news is, in a few years, you'll get your weekends back, and sleepovers are so much fun. Plus, all that time in gymnastics really gives you the mental training you'll need later, and your left ankle will click for years to come.

Dear 10 year old Me, I know you really want it, but you will never be mainstream normal. I mean it. You will always be slightly off, easy to pick out as a little odd. Let's face it, you started off as a redhead, and that was just the beginning. Before you do anything drastic though, I should tell you that this is okay. It takes you a while to come around to this conclusion, but eventually, you will realize how much you enjoy your abnormal self, how many people value your abnormalities, how very few people are normal, and how weird those normal people are. Raising those goats is really going to do a lot of character building for you. Tamagotchis really are a quickly passing phase, and though Digimon are off brand knock offs, Digimon actually end up being more fun as well as cheaper. Jonathon Taylor Thomas doesn't get many acting gigs after the Lion King. The Hansen Brothers disappear quickly, and do not manage to make "homeschooled" a cool thing to be before they go.

Dear 11 year old I used to be, moving is not the end of the world, some of your current friendships won't even be worth the trip across town to maintain. Friendships change. Some aren't meant to be forever. Things are going to get rocky, but you'll come out strong. God will never abandon you. Be nicer to your sister. You'll regret not being nicer to her once your common sense comes back.

Dear 12 year old Self, you will never get your braces off! Just kidding. You will, but it's going to be a while, and it won't be before they take your picture for your driver's license. Sorry. In general, I'd tell you to tone it down a little in the exuberance department, but since you're in junior high, I doubt you'll listen. The TV show "Martial Law" isn't going to last very long, nobody is going to remember it, and it will be pretty much impossible to find on DVDs later(media which you have yet to learn about). By the way, in a very short time, Video Tapes will be replaced with DVDs. Cassettes and VHS will be obsolete very soon. That's just the beginning, after a while TVs will only be 3-5" deep, and TV antennas will be pretty much useless.

Dear 14 year old Me: you emotionally survive the Algebra class at the junior college by the skin of your teeth, but gradewise, with an A. Not bad, hot shot! Sure, it scares the crud out of you, but completing this class is the reason you will know you can make it through much harder classes later on. Later on, you will no longer have your mommy there marching you back into class while you want to run away; you'll have to march yourself in.

Dear 15 year old Me, if you ever become that interpreter missionary with the beautifully adventurous, international life, it is not in the next decade. You also do not become a dentist or veterinarian. Because you swore you'd never be something boring, I know this may shock you, but eventually you become a teacher. I know this disappoints you right now, because you cannot think of any occupation more boring than a teacher. It's probably of little consolation right now, but it really isn't boring. If it helps, you do at some point drive an ambulance before this happens.

Dear 16 year old, when all those people and professionals tell you the acne will go away around the time you are 25, they are idiots. It gets worse. You learn to deal with it, and that your personal value doesn't rest on your complexion.

Dear scared 17 year old, nothing turns out as disastrous as you worry it will.

Dear 18 year old me, adult life is great. It's not any easier, but it's at least a different kind of difficult.

Dear polite 19 year old, when everything in your gut says, "Rooming with that girl is a horrible idea, don't agree to it." just be rude right up front about it and tell her you don't want to room with her.  It will save you a whole year of energy in rudeness. You learn a lot from it, but it's a high price to pay. Also, guys who mock you in front of your friends aren't worth the heartbreak, no matter how cool and dreamy they are.

Dear college graduate, your degree means very little to employers, you don't end up pursuing the career you thought you would, and your life training wheels just fell off on the downhill slope. Throw your feet up, hold your handle bars straight and steady, shout, "Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!" so that everyone thinks you're brave instead of just shrieking, and then be ready to tuck and roll. You will discover, however, that you've got quality friends.

Dear 22 year old Me, go visit Granny every weekend. Cancel other plans, stay longer, eat more nasty food, ask more questions, sit in a room and enjoy the silence of reading and potato chips together a few extra times, rent more foreign movies, drink more tea, stay up late with her, and get up early, complete more crossword puzzles, memorize the way she smells, the way she smiles, and the way she laughs, and the way her eyes look when she's thinking deep thoughts, actually try to answer the deep questions she challenges you with, go to her favorite restaurant more often.

Dear 23 year old Self, you are not invincible. No amount of planning, rule following, sheer force of will, or strategic steps can outwit freak accidents. There are some crashes you don't bounce back from as easily as previous ones. This next part is really going to suck. I wish I could tell you how to avoid it, but I'm not sure I've figured out how you can. I'm not sure I really would tell you, anyway. Right now you will not believe that the good things you gain out of this will be worth it, but looking back, you will.

Dear 24 year old Self, you will get better, maybe not in the way you expect, but your life is not ruined. You only think so, because you think you know what it is supposed to look like. Life does not have to look like the "Happily ever after" you planned in order for it to be good. You cannot "work harder" at healing and speed things up, that only happens in the movies.

Dear 26 year old Me, don't chicken out.

Dear Me, I don't know what advice I will have for me right now in a few years. I do know that I survived all those other years making those mistakes, and growing from them. As much as I wish I could go back and set myself straight, or encourage myself with knowledge from the future, I was unable to, and yet somehow you still made it through. I'm going to attribute that to God's love and protection, and the love, support and understanding of family and friends. I wrote this for you right now, because sometimes you need the pieces strung together to see how it all worked out. Sometimes you forget too easily, and maybe someday, when you feel less positive about life, you'll need a reminder and I want to leave this here for you just in case. God is the same God, whether you are 3, 5, 17, 22, or 63 and you are fortunate to have family and friends who love, support, and forgive you.
Enjoy the life you have currently whatever it is, because looking back, it was never all bad.
Don't forget.