Hello, 2 year old me. I see your wide eyed wonder. I hear your peals of laughter. I see the joy bubbling up inside of your soul. I see your happy. I’m so glad you held onto all of that as you forged through life’s journey.

Hello, 6 year old me. I see your curly hair that you hate (you will miss it later). I see your happy home and your white piano whose music breathes life into your soul. I see the light in your eyes but I know you miss your Grandpa and you’re jealous of your baby sister. (Spoiler alert – she’s awesome and you’ll be best friends). Hold on, little girl. It’s going to be okay.

Hello, 10 year old me. I see you rocking that oversized t-shirt as you lounge around the cottage on a rainy day reading a book. I’m glad you never lost your love for reading. It will help you a little later when you’re struggling with overwhelming emotions and you just need to write about it. Write away, girl. It’s good for you.

Hello, 15 year old me. It’s been awhile. Looking so cool and confident, loving your place in life. Hold on, my friend. Your world is about to get torn out from under you. Moving to another province, leaving behind all you know. All your friends, all your relatives, everything. It’s going to break your heart. But you’re going to be thankful for it in the end, I promise.

Hello, 20 year old me. You’ve come a long way since that heartbreaking move. You’ve made friends, you’ve almost finished university, and you’re just about to meet your husband. Most importantly, you’ve found Jesus. You’ve joined a church you love and you’re ready for whatever life brings.

Hello, 25 year old me. I see that joy from two year old me still lives on. Good. Keep laughing, girl. You’ve been married for a few years and have the cutest little toddler. You don’t know it yet, but before the year is up you’ll have another baby boy. But buckle up, buttercup. Things are going to get tough.

Hello, 28 year old me. I see your grey hair. It’s been earned, I know. You are mere weeks away from the first autism diagnosis. You’re worried about why your legs are so sore and you’re fearful for what is to come. But you’re beautiful sister is getting married today and you’re the maid of honour, so you smile. And you look beautiful, too.

Hello, 33 year old me. It’s been an awful year so far. And it’s going to get worse. Your beloved grandmother just died. A sweet childhood friend will go home to glory just a few months later. And another close friend a few weeks after that. You’ve been told your chronic illness is killing you and you have mere months to live. Your son is having difficulty transitioning to a new school and things are going to be tough for awhile. But that’s a genuine smile. And there’s a hope in your soul that cannot be tamed.

Hello, 36 year old me. You’ve been through a lot. You’ve had a lot of high highs and really low lows. You’ve fought a good fight and the Lord has been gracious. You’re not dying anymore, though the road ahead is long and burdensome. You’re finally comfortable in your own skin and don’t really care what others say or think about you because your identity isn’t wrapped up in that, it’s wrapped up in Christ. You finally got that nose ring you’ve been wanting since you were 15. Finally.

Life is a journey. Up and down, this way and that way. There’s lots of exciting things, and there’s lots of difficult things too. Some days I don’t know how we keep trucking along. But we do. All of us together, wrapped up into one package. It’s a little bruised, very deformed, but beautiful in its own way. Everything that makes us me.

There’s a lot of stuff to come that will be challenging and heartbreaking. But there’s this gift that two year old me discovered and that’s laughter. It’s so freeing, so healing. And then there is Spirit given joy which conquers every heartbreaking thing we’ve gone through so far and will conquer every difficult thing we go through in the future.

Hello, future me. Stop worrying about things you can’t control and lay it down at His feet. It’s going to be okay.