dear younger me

Today, I met with my 15-year-old self for coffee.

I met her at her home, in her bed. 

She tells me she is tired of being bedridden and is losing hope. 

I tell her I am working at a preschool that feels like home, and that I am attending a university that is teaching me to teach others, and where I am able to plant seeds. 

She tells me she wants to start a blog. 

I tell her I did and am five years in and still writing. 

She tells me her new favorite author is Malcolm Gladwell, and she cannot wait to read all his books. 

I tell her my favorite book is the Bible, and I have found no greater author. 

She tells me she loves running and is one day going to make it to States. 

I tell her that my final high school race was a 30-minute 5k, yet it was the best race I’ve ever run. 

She tells me she wishes she had a community. 

I tell her about the God-shot that brought me to my church and my people. 

She tells me she wonders how she will ever be loved. 

I tell her I have been loved unconditionally for two years now. 

She tells me she has given up on people. 

I tell her about all the people along the way who have changed my life. 

She tells me she will never trust another doctor. 

I tell her that four years ago, I found the doctor who saved my life. 

She tells me how she feels that her big feelings destroy her. 

I tell her they are my greatest gifts. 

She tells me her illness controls her life. 

I tell her I now live in unison with it. 

She tells me she doubts God and wonders why He is letting her suffer. 

I tell her of all that the suffering has taught me.