My favorite thing about you is the way you laugh. It is deep, derpy and charming. It is hesitant, and genuine. I like the way you cautiously believe in the “idea” of who you are, rather than who you really are.
I like both, but I like you better. I want you to see the light inside of you. Your ability to command a room with who you are. The way you are able to lead others, bring community together – I want you to know that you are not the sum of your circumstances, but rather that every single day, is new. It’s new because there will never be a point in your life where you feel like you’ve figured it out.
If you feel that way, it means that you are growing. It means that you are changing. It means that there are new things inside of you that are meant to impact and change others. It means that the darkness wants to get in your way.
I want you to be courageous and never allow other people to define your shine. People will do everything they can to remind you of who you are not – they will try to write your narrative. The truth is, there will always be someone trying to write in your book. Your best co-writers will be the ones who put up a mirror to the things you don’t want to see. Your best co-writers will be your biggest fans and your worst critics. There will be ones who write chapters and walk away. And then, there are ones who comment on the themes and give you the pen to truly write your story. Those are the ones who don’t always seem so nice because they’re not writing, they’re critiquing.
The critiquing never feels good.
The person who writes with me the most is, for better or worse, my mummy. There are many points in my relationship with my mother that have been nothing but difficult. She didn’t trust me, she called me names – she told me I was crazy. I often have felt that I have let her down. I often feel like she will never be happy with me.
I talk to her most every day. There are days I don’t talk to her and the next day she yells at me for not calling her. She just wants to make sure I am alive. In one of our more recent conversations, I told her about one of the areas I am struggling in professionally and this was her response:
“If you are faithful in little things, you will be faithful in large ones. But if you are dishonest in little things, you won’t be honest with greater responsibilities. And if you are untrustworthy about worldly wealth, who will trust you with the true riches of heaven? And if you are not faithful with other people’s things, why should you be trusted with things of your own?
When my mom told me that – she was primarily talking to me about the dust on my apartment floor. The reality is, the the older I get, the more I see the humanity in her. She left me with some advice that shook me into writing more, believing more, and seeing the reality of what I was meant to walk into.
The truth is, mothers, and mine in particular, are the best co-writers. She will always tell you that your draft is bad. She will always tell you that you can write better.
Because it’s true. Your mom, your mom who labored for you, who sacrificed and gave her life for you – she will always know what you are capable of. You are a piece of her. And in so many ways, what she is believing for you to be better – is a reflection of the better inside of her. And as hard as that is for you to believe, I know that one day you will cry the way I do now when I see the human in my mom. Not because you are mad at her, but because you can finally see the heart inside of her.
You are completely capable of taking reigns over your world. You are completely capable of feeling differently. One day, you are going to realize that this season was meant to serve others. I’m not sure who those people are – but they matter, and you will be relevant. You have always been relevant. I cannot be me without you. I am proud of you.
Now, go be faithful with what is in your hand.
The girl who already sees you