Letter to My Younger Self: Learning Grace Through Every Season

If I could sit down with my younger self...the little girl in the black ballet costume who thought every clap was laughter, I’d cup her face gently and tell her this: Sweet girl, you are braver than you think and worthy of more love than you can imagine.

I’d tell her those claps were for joy, not mockery. I’d tell her confidence isn’t loud; it grows in quiet places, like country roads and corn fields, bike rides at dusk and the moments when you pedal past fear (even if a German Shepherd is chasing you down Armstrong Rd...ha ha ha ha). I'd also tell her not to quit ballet because it is so beautiful and she will grow into a very tall, lean young lady.

I’d tell her to hug her sister more, talk back to her parents less and to know she doesn’t need to have the whole world figured out at eight...or eighteen. 

I’d remind her that the world is bigger than South Rockwood, Michigan. That one day she’ll leave those corn fields and dusty roads and find herself standing in the middle of a life she never could’ve imagined...messy, loud, beautiful, redeemed.

I’d tell her that her sass won’t ruin her, but it’ll shape her. Her stubborn streak will grow her. Her determination and drive will be what gets her through a lot of messiness and that her mistakes won’t define her, but they will refine her. And someday, she’ll look back and whisper two words she never understood as a kid: Grace Wins.

Because grace will meet her in the heartbreak of her parents’ divorce as well as her own. Grace will steady her as she packs up life and starts over in South Carolina. Grace will sit beside her in the loud nights of bars and dart leagues, waiting patiently for the moment she’s ready to grow up. And grace and mercy will follow her into Tennessee, where her entire story rewrites itself in the arms of Jesus, a husband and two amazing, baseball-loving boys...who are exactly like her.

And then...oh then...grace will be tested when those boys become teenagers. The kind who roll their eyes, talk back and mirror the same sharp edges she once carried. The hard-headed stubbornness that got her through the younger years...yeah, she'll be battling those too.

It’s a strange thing to parent versions of your younger self. You start seeing all the places you needed gentleness… right as you’re learning to give it. You start realizing humility isn’t weakness; it’s strength wrapped in surrender. You learn that grace isn’t a pretty word, it's a practice. It's a lifeline.

The kind that makes you call your parents and apologize for everything you put them through....that's no lie! I did call them! And I apologized for everything I did and all that sass, all the sneaking out, all the mess I caused them! (maybe God heard so He would extended mercy during these teenage years?! Am I allowed to do that?! ha ha)

Midlife has a way of circling you back, asking you to raise the very girl you used to be (but only as a boy...so MUCH less dramatic! lol). And maybe that’s the most sacred part of this season: discovering that the same grace that chased you down dirt roads is the grace that softens you now. The grace that helps you breathe through slammed doors and teenage chaos.

The grace that whispers, You’re still growing, too.

So here we are...older, wiser, softer. Learning that grace is not something you outgrow. It’s something you grow into. And this month, in this Little Block of Happy, we’ll lean into it together. Because grace wins. Every time. It's our theme for this month and I'm diving deep because God knows I need it...and maybe you do too.

So, hug your parents a little tighter. Apologize to them...like I did while writing this blog. They probably deserve the apology. It also frees up beautiful space in your heart.

And give your kids a little more grace...because you were once them, a teenager trying to figure out the world one imperfect moment at a time.

And don’t rush the days that feel loud, ordinary, or messy, because one day you’ll look back and realize those were the seasons overflowing with the most love, the most humility, and the most unexpected beauty.

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’” 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NIV)