Letter To My 35-Year-Old Self
Last week, I reflected back 10 years, today I look forward 10 years and write down some dreams and thoughts to my future self. Here it is:
Dear 35-Year-Old Self,
I am writing this with no idea where you will be at 35 or what you will be like, but I have some hopes and dreams for you that I would like to outline for you. Knowing you, I have a feeling when you read this in 10 years, you might feel a little disappointed if you are not where I imagine you being. That is perfectly okay. You might not be where I imagined, but really all I can hope for is that you are following the will of God. That is all that really matters.
Currently I am in a place of uncertainty. A place of transition and new territory. I am just beginning to figure out this new role as mom. At 35, I have no idea how many children we may have or even what location we will be at, but I hope in 10 years to be more confident as a mom. I question myself daily. I question if I am doing enough for Hudson. Every day I am faced with the doubt that I am not a good enough mother. I am pretty certain that I will still have these doubts in 10 years, they may be even more significant with the passing of time, but I do hope you have greater confidence in your ability to mother well. Not only as mother, but I hope your confidence has increased in all areas of your life. Ultimately I hope you stand on even firmer confidence in Christ, and through this, you may live a life that is bolder and more certain.
Along with confidence, I hope you are not as serious. I hope in 10 years, you have become more fun and less stressed. I know in these next few years, life is likely going to get more complicated and more full, but my prayer is that I can increase in maturity to handle it all better than my early twenties. I hope you can better handle when things fall apart. I hope there are less anxious tears and more belly laughs. I hope that you can shake things off quicker and with greater ease. I hope you can be less frantic and concerned about the things that really do not matter. Again, I know you and I know that you are likely going to still have these same anxious and stressed out tendencies that I am currently dealing with, but along with all the other hopes I outlined, I ultimately hope you can learn to lean less on yourself and more on the Lord.
Not only do I hope you are more confident and less anxious, I hope you have become better. I hope you are better in all senses. I hope you are a better wife. I hope you love Lance better and are less selfish. I hope you are a better mother. I hope you are more patient with Hudson and any future children you may have. I hope you have become a better sister, daughter, friend, church member, neighbor, woman, and most importantly a better follower of Christ. This is starting to feel overwhelming, but really all I am hoping for is that by 35 your heart is bigger and fuller and more willing to love the people in your life better. I know you still have a long way to go, but I really hope you can read this and know that you are absolutely more intentional with the relationships in your life.
At 25, I write this with great optimism. I really cannot wait to meet you at 35 and see the life that you are living. I can’t wait to see the growth you have made and I really can’t wait to see Hudson as a 10-year-old. While I write this with hopeful optimism, I am almost certain that you probably have experienced lost somewhere along these 10 years. You probably have had some darker seasons. You may have even gotten a little lost along the way. I am sure there have been some really hard tears you have cried and some really beautiful laughs. I write this knowing that there are going to be some difficulties these next 10 years that will likely test me and make me feel uncomfortable. Whatever has happened, I hope you can look back and through both the pain and the joy, see the hand of God over it all.
Your 25-year-old self