Five Minute Friday.

Today's prompt: Close.

Go.

It's so easy to feel so lost sometimes.
Life feels like a sprint in the opposite direction of the home where you are
And it's so easy to get caught up in the path that goes that way.

I've never been good at directions.

I can get lost more easily than I'd like to admit
It's just so simple to get turned around
Driving in circles, farther away from where you are
Where I need to be.

I swear I've seen that tree before.

God knew not to create me before the GPS.
And I guess that lost sense of direction carries over to life itself somedays
Taking wrong turns, losing my way
I promise I'm trying.

And just when I think I'm hopelessly lost
When the road seems so long behind me
When I'm miles and miles down the path I didn't intend to take

Deep breath.
U-turn.
But wait, what is that, just to the right?

Oh.

There you are.
You were so close all along.

-S. 

Poetry.

I've recently moved here, and I wanted to bring some poetry with me. Hope you don't mind.

Eleven. Twenty-Nine. Thirteen.

I'm made of stars.
Carbon hydrogen and helium
I'm not a scientist, so I couldn't say for certain
But I know about wishes and magic and light
Distance and stories and mystery
I've squeezed my eyes shut many a time
A 'star light, star bright...' wish whispered into a night sky
I'm made of stars.

I'm made of pieces.
Skinned knees and bruised hands
Heart beats resounding hollow trying to hide the mess
Inside clumsily scotch-taped mosaic
Held together by elemers covered fingers
All grown up but really
Five years old trying to hide the cracks
Of a heart that accidentally slipped
Trusted in the hands of someone
Not quite ready to hold it.
I'm made of pieces

I'm made of crumbs.
Christmas eve wishes settling in the bottom of a plateNear a letter and an ice cold glass of milk
Slippered feet illuminated by glowing colors
Lights and ornaments, wreaths and bows
Please, Santa I know I've messed up but I tried...
I'm made of crumbs.

I'm made of bits of poetry.
Words that cut deeper than the surgeon scalpel
When he took out all the bad cells
Stitching me back together in the broken spots
The spots cut open, bleeding, painful
But cut open, deep, to make me better
Make me whole.
I'm made of bits of poetry.

I'm made of eighth notes.
Half notes, quarter, rest
Little beats mixing and twirling
Tutus and ballet slipper feet
Watching the big girls and please please please
Let me dance pretty just like them
Finding my own rhythm to the song
Learning to recognize the song inside my very being.
I'm made of eighth notes.

I'm made of memories.
Flying like birds through department store doors
Their simple way in not so easily reversed
Rattling around inside and finding new places to rest
Causing gasps and sometimes breaks
Other times giggles and 'oh won't this be a story to tell'
Knocking off dust from where it wasn't even noticed
I'm made of memories.

I'm made of prayers.
Words whispered in the good and the bad
Holiday tables surrounded by families
Sunday lunches. Full-churched candle-lit hymns.
Funerals. Hospital beds.
The pleases and the thank yous, the wishes and the wonders.
I'm made of prayers.

I'm made of hope.
The little whisper that says that
When the world lets you down
When you're bruised and heartbroken
When Christmas is over and the magic slips away
When the bad things aren't able to be removed
When the music stops
When the memories fade
When prayers feel like they're sinking into tiles
Hold on.

Because I'm made of rays of sunshine.
Nighttime coming to an end.
New beginning. Another day.
Second chance.
I'm made of sunshine.

Four. Eleven. Thirteen.

Things I hope for you:

Your days are full of sunshine
And when they aren't,
I hope the rain is gentle
I hope you laugh
And when you can't,
I hope you know that things will clear up soon.
They always do.

I hope someone tells you how wonderful you look
With that crooked tooth
And the crinkles beside your eyes
And that one color that you look amazing in.
I hope that your hair grows,
And you have to get it cut again and again.
That's one of life's small joys, you know.
That, and wearing a new outfit.

I hope you take the time to feel the grass between your toes
And really listen to the waterfall.
You let the child run their fingers over your face
And you let the tickles bring belly laughs.

I hope you remember to look up at the stars
Count them until you're lost in the wonder of it all
And then remember that you, too
Are made of stars.

Remember that everyone you are scared of
Is 65% water
And that bumble bees die after they sting
And that every storm runs out of rain
And that nothing is infinite
Not even heartache.

Remember that you'll be okay.
Remember that I'm pulling for you.
Remember that I believe in you.

Three. Fifteen. Thirteen.

Rest.

Hands open, broken, cracked.
I sit here at this table, Your table.
Thank you for saving a seat for me.

My heart is weary; I'm afraid I've worn it out.
Life has been so busy. Always on the move.
Minutes slip through fingers- dew drops in morning sun.

Most are good, though some are not.
There's always somewhere to be.
Someone to see, someplace to visit, some thing to be accomplished.

But I sit here; I sit at your table in this moment.
I take a short reprieve from the bustle of the go, go, go.
I breathe deep; my constricted lungs finally expand.

I lean in, I lay my head on your shoulder.
I close my eyes and I am still.
I listen for the quiet.

You hold me close.
You let me know that it will be okay.
You let me rest.

Thank you.

Three. Seven. Thirteen.

Do you know why
You can never fully repair something that was broken?

Because there are tiny fragments that break off of the whole
They are so small that you do not see them
Mixed in with carpet fibers and wood grain
But they are there
And now they are missing.

You can try your best to put the pieces back together
But they won't fit exactly right
Because there are those parts that you can't get back
The parts that are lost forever
Pieces that have been claimed by another space.

But have you ever tried to fix something
That was, at one time, totally shattered?
Then you know that there are tiny cracks
Little spaces where those pieces are missing
Fault lines that are permanently etched.

But if you've ever tried to fix something
That was, at one time, totally shattered,
Then you also know that those cracks
Those etched-in fault lines
Those missing-piece holes
Are the places where the light comes in.

The same goes for hearts.
So, too, with people.

Two. Twenty-eight. Thirteen.

2am.
This is just a rambling mess.
A jumble of thoughts and consciousness
So please forgive me if I make no sense
Or all the sense in the world
But I just need to talk tonight

Friend of mine, there are things I need to do
Have you ever felt that way?
There is this itching under my skin
This need to do something in the world
To leave fingerprints, memories, ink smudges
To make a difference

You know, I don't know what I'm supposed to do
Who to be, what to say, where to go
But I do know the fire-dipped shades of sunset skies
The deep pink of wind-bitten cheeks
The silver of child-laughter eyes
And the lavender of wishes on stars.
I know the grey of tears down cheeks,
The black of empty arms in empty beds
And I know the green of new, fresh,
starting over, and over, and over again.
This world is a rainbow that always seems
to keep showing up after every storm.
Dew drop on a blade of grass, sud in a sink.
And I'm thankful.

I want to take my frayed edges
My messy hair and uneven eyeliner
I want to take my hoodies and jeans with the torn holes
And take my chipped fingernails and my too-long toes curled in nervous anticipation
And I want to offer them to you.
It isn't much.
It's pennies and broken shells and maybe
even shards from broken hearts
But it's what I am and it's what I have
And I want to give it to you.
I want to offer up these fragments,
These seemingly broken things

Because without the colored pieces mosaics cannot exist.

Friend, I want to leave a piece of me here.
Maybe with you, maybe with petals in the wind
Maybe even on the glint off a feather of a
bird high in the tree tops
Because that's where you'll find me.
You'll find me here, then there, always
Always floating through the world, breathing deep the colors of now, now, now

You'll find me in the words I leave on this paper piece.
Because I am a writer.
This my greatest dream, you see
And it may not always work
And the sentences may not make
And sometimes I Capitalize The Wrong Letters
And... Well... I pause, rather, frequently
And I say the same things over and over
And I repeat myself
And I don't make sense.
My hands are covered in ink and eraser smudges,
Coffee and tear stains.
And still the words don't flow.
The heart is lopsided but beating
And this is the greatest thing I have.
This is what I am.

I am words. A big long string, unending,
Unbroken.
Word after word connected and placed
So that you can know my name.
So that when you hold up your thumb to the sky
You can count four over, three across
You can see my star.
The one that grants wishes and hope
The silver in the black.
This so that you taste the sweet of sunshine and fresh cotton sheets.
The honeysuckle in late June dusk.
Maybe this is my fingerprint.
Maybe my memory.
These my words.
The words I leave here, on this page,
covered in the hue of windowsill cracks
This hour that blurs the lines of the page
The too-late and too-early belonging to days gone and to be
The smell of coffee and toothpaste and chocolate chip cookie.
These words, messy, chopped, scribbled, whispered, placed.
They rest in the outstretched palm
The fingers extended,
Dirty fingernails and all.

Here.
For you.

May & See You Later.

It's the end of the year. It's that time when cardboard boxes make me more nostalgic than just about anything in the entire world, and where it's suddenly placed right up in my face how very quickly this is all moving. It's going by so fast, this whirlwind of a life. Moments keep slipping like sand through the cracks between my fingers, and they never seem to fall less quickly. How am I supposed to just let them go? How am I supposed to just let you go?

I'm going to miss you.

And it's not fair. It's not fair because I swear that it has been just seconds since we met and now you are going to be walking out into this world. It isn't fair that I can't go with you and cheer for you as you shape this planet. But, those people who do get to see you soar next? They are the luckiest ones. The new people that can count on your presence in an everyday sort of way the way that I have recently, they are in for such an amazing treat.

I want you to know that you changed me.

You have shared so many good things with me. So many laughs. Heart to heart conversations. Meals and days when I couldn't seem to keep my own chin up. Sunshine-filled walks and puddle-splashing days. Two sets of boot prints in the snow. You came into my life as the biggest blessing.  I knew from day one that we would share a very special space. And I was right. Without you, I wouldn't be the person that I am standing here as today. You've filled in a place I was unaware was empty.

You are going to do amazing things.

Really, though. You are going to change this world and I cannot wait to see as you blaze a new trail right through the thick of it. You have a fire in your eyes that I admire and envy, because I just know that you're going to use it to shift the axis of the planet on which we stand. You have big dreams, and you will achieve them. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, I know that much. You've already changed my little corner of the world. Just think of how many more little corners you will touch. It's really quite astonishing. Everyone who has the chance to know you is so lucky.

Thanks. For everything. I know it's just a word, and that it's not much, but it's what I have to give. So, thanks.

You filled me on days I was empty. You gave me moments of joy and memories that I will have for the rest of my time on this journey. You showed me how to live this life to the absolute fullest and for that, you will never know how eternally grateful that I am.

Thanks for the breakfasts. For the dances. For the park trips. For the ice cream and the movie nights. Thanks for the car rides, the radio up too loud, the smiles we couldn't seem to loose. Thanks for holding me together when I started coming unglued. Thanks for pushing me to become a better person. Thanks for accepting that there are parts of me that probably won't be fixed at all. Thanks for nights out and nights in and days together and showing me a view of the world I hadn't seen before I met you. Thanks for all the moments, the memories, the love that comes from having a friend like you.

I suck at goodbyes, so how about just see you later?

And no matter where this life may take you, you'll always know where to find me.

I'm cheering for you.

All my love,

-S.

Tired of Being Broken.

I'm full of missing pieces
Windowpanes once whole now only shattered glass
Rebuilding seeming nearly impossible
Holes too big to fill in

I'm tired of being broken.
And I can write beautiful things that give heartbeat to ink
Leaving footprints on arteries and pages alike
About how broken is beautiful
And how you can only make a mosaic if you start with pieces
And that's still true.
I still believe that beauty can come from the pain inside

But I'm tired of being broken.

I'm tired of the way people look at you when you have missing pieces
So condescending, looking down their noses as though they are any better
Judgment blocking vision, the log obscuring the splinter
'Just pull yourself together!' 'Cheer up!' 'Smile like you mean it!'

Can't you see I'm trying?

All you see is the outside, though,
The parts that I'm choosing to let you see
But that's really not all of the story
There is hurt

Here

That you can't see

You can't see the day he put a hand to me
Or the day he screamed in my face.
You don't see the canyon that formed in my soul the day she said those things
Or the way the betrayal, betrayal, betrayal Ah.
Soaked in beneath my skin

Yours may be thick, but mine is not.

You can't see the struggle it takes for me to force my legs out from the covers
Every day, every day, every day,
The way food repulses after so long because calories equal fat cells
Right?
I kept it all to myself for a long, long, time.
I fought with no one helping me at all.
You didn't see that one either.

He betrayed me. Of all the people in the world, it wasn't supposed to be him.
But it was.

You can't see the way fear that stretched over years with no reprieve
Put a lot of wear on this heart of mine
Or the way that people only saw me when something went wrong.
You can't see the muddy footprints that I've traced a billion times each
Left by all of those people who just walked away

Why did they walk away? What did I do wrong?

You don't see the millions of stitch marks from where I've patched
The clumsily scotch-taped, elmer's glued, band-aid coated thing
Lying beneath my rib cage, aching with each measured pulse

You don't see that. You don't.

You just see the half-hearted smile
The thin line I put all of my effort into turning into crescent moon
Just so that you won't think I'm so empty
And most of the time, you believe me
Or at least pretend to so you don't have to ask questions
But you still see my eyes

Can't you see me screaming?

I'm tired of being broken
And I'm trying to move toward piecing this heart back together again
Sweeping shards of glass to be puzzle-pieced together
It just takes time, though.

It takes moment after moment,
Peeling back the temporarily fixed layers
Exposing the rawness of the ache that still exists
Yes, even after this long,
And it takes courage.

You can't see that either.

But just because you see it,
Doesn't mean it isn't real
Isn't true.

I'm full of missing pieces,
But I'm learning to fit together new ones
Learning to let the light in where holes still remain

Let this heartbeat flowing through my fingers
Match my pulse with yours

Take my hand
Brokenness transforming, finding how to be filled once again
Come, I'll show you
But you'll have to open your eyes, accept your place

Because with all the judgment clouding your lens to the world,

You can't see that.

-S.

I am not a writer.

I am not a writer.

But, I do long to reach deep into the chasm of my soul and grasp the tiny shards and bring them to life. I look hard for the pretty ones but sometimes, the sun shines best on the pieces with the exposed edges, the ones that I dread bringing forth. I want to hold your hand, I want you to understand that I care deeply, achingly for you. I crave for you to listen deep, listen wide, grasp tight to the hand that holds us both. Oh, my heart aches for you, my sweet one. For us. For you see, we do this together, this life. I shudder at the word. Excited nerves shiver down lengths of vertebrae, but also frightening black edges crowd in around the fireworks. The salty sweetness, the bitterness mixed with the depths of joy. The daisy petals and the crackling leaves. Oh, it's beautiful. The ocean full of experience and though we marvel, though we see at a distance, we long to be caught up in the waves.

There are so many things to say to you. So many words to link together and spin into beautiful gowns of sentences that take your breath away as they fall from lips like shooting stars. But oh how they stick. My gowns have missing stitches and holes and pieces of dust woven in. I apologize if it takes from the beauty of it all. My throat is full of ideas and thoughts and things you need to know and my fingers cannot find these keys fast enough. I want to tell you that you are brave and strong and beautiful and that there are galaxies inside of every inch of you and if you open your heart it is true that the love there will escape from you but it is through that hole that light will flood in and that love that you let go will find the crack that formed when her dad walked away when she was seven and though you don't even know her name you helped her on her journey. And if you let people, they can mend your cracks too. I want you to know that you are made of stars and the sea and that the nervous nail-biting four-year-old that lives in your heart is perfectly normal and acceptable and that as you grow older you merely gain numbers, not lose the previous ones. So really, you are 8 and 7 and 6 and 5 and 4 and 3 and 2 and 1 all wrapped up in 9. Like a tree you add layer after layer and some layers show storms and others show drought but goodness how beyond beautiful you are. Inhaling with arching spine, oak trunk withstanding the hurricane, holding safe memory and life. That's something that people forget to tell you. Four-year-old you will always exist and sometimes it is completely and totally fine to go visit them.

I want to sit across from you, coffee in hand, and tell you about mistakes and heartbreaks and broken promises and destroyed friendships and how time has a way of changing things but that doesn't make memories less beautiful, and if you let it, time will eventually change the pain too. I want to peel back the layers and show you that I understand your pain and though I cannot heal, I can hold, and if you let me I promise you I will hold on as tightly as you need me to. I want to tell you that it's completely okay to love him. Love him for as long and as deeply as you want to. This life is going to be what you make it and no one else can choose the steps that you will take. That can be terrifying and exhilarating. But trust me when I say that taking steps is worth it. Even the ones that lead you in a different direction than you had planned. Especially those. Take them and embrace them. Fling wide your arms and leap. Even if it is over a puddle. I want you to know that holding on is okay. Keeping things clenched tight in your fists is fine. This is the exact opposite of what you have heard your entire life and I am well aware but I want you to hear me out. I want you to relax in your comfy chair opposite mine with this fireplace between us and I want you to get lost in thought for a moment as you count the things you know you are holding on to. Keep them. Hold tight and squeeze until your knuckles are the color of the snow falling outside our window. Just know that it can't be a permanent situation. But trust your timing. When you are ready, you will release them. And often, you won't even remember doing so, and when you look back to find where you dropped it, the horizon will have swallowed it whole. Those are some of the most glorious moments. Don't forget to cherish those. Bask in those sunsets that throw beauty over things left behind, and look forward into the horizon of tomorrow's sunrise as you continue.

And you must continue. That is most important of all. You must keep going, stretching, growing, learning, moving. Never stop being excited by the things that surround you as you move through this glorious day. And then tomorrow, renew that excitement again. And again. And again. Let it be new. Let it be amazing. Let yourself bubble over with giddiness and dance around your kitchen making breakfast. Giggle, even when no one else is in the room to hear you. Play music and wear that perfume you've been saving. I want to tell you to look people in the face when you meet them. Let them see your smile, and always assure that your eyes hold tenderness. Be genuine. Cross your fingers for luck and wish on stars if that is what you want to do. Don't let anyone tell you that part of you, or any part of you for that matter, is wrong. When you are hurt, do not be afraid to let the tears spill over and do not hide. Take the hand that is offered to you. The human heart longs for goodness, and helping another is a joy you rob someone of every time you turn from them. Let them be a shoulder for the tears and deep, deep breaths. The time will come to pay that forward, and you will understand. Always seek advice from those around you, for everyone you will ever meet in your life will know something that you do not. Do not ever forget that, either.

When you get bored, draw a monster. Then ask yourself over and over, what makes this a monster? Find the monsters under your bed and in your closet and get to know them. Find out who they are and where they come from and one day, they may not seem quite so frightening. Make lists, make goals, and strive to be the person that you want to be. One inching step in the right direction is a thousand times better than a leap in the wrong one. I want you to take too many pictures and do the thing you have always longed to do. You will not regret that. But you may regret it if you do not. Chase your dreams and believe in yourself. Give yourself grace and grace and then, more grace. God does not withhold it so neither should you. Learn to be brave enough to start over. And over. And over. Make yourself, you were born to create.

I want to tell you so many things but if I have learned anything while I have been placing fingerprints on this planet it is this: that words fail. When the pain cuts deep and when the joy is overflowing, words fail. They fail over and over and over. But string them together anyway. String them together like clumsy toddler fingers and wooden beaded necklaces. Always place a knot between them because that way when something breaks, and it inevitably will, the whole thing doesn't unravel. String together those small moments and I promise you that it will overwhelm the bad things. Make that strand count for more than the bad things and take the day for what it is: the only guarantee you have. Treat it like it is your first, and your last. And then, my love, then you will experience life in an entirely new way.

I long to cup your sweet face in my hands and lean in close. Even if I say nothing else, if all you remember from our time together is one thing, I want to look in your eyes and tell you this: I want you to know that you are valued, wonderful, and entirely whole precisely as you are in this very second of time that we occupy together. Always be humble in gratitude and bless others by the armful. People are worth it, and no matter what happens, love will always win. Always.

For you, with all the love I can hold.
-S.

The best, and Grace for the rest.

"I'm just doing the best I can..."

Gracious, I've said that a lot lately.
I know, sweet girl. I know you are. I think most of the time, we all are. We're just doing the best that we can in that moment. I've learned that being alive and living are two very different things. And there's a small gap between the two that I often feel myself sticking in like my toe in the just slightly too wide gap of the concrete below my feet. Being alive is feeling like you are always on the wrong side of that sidewalk crack. Being alive is feeling as though you are not (insert adjective here) enough so you must keep pushing, pushing, pushing.  But please, dear one, listen to me and I need for you to listen to me and not just hear these words; please let this sink into the very deepest stitches of your heart and know this: you are enough. You are enough exactly in the space that you occupy in this moment. I know that it feels like you should be doing more, being more, acting more, and you're worried that you aren't but you feel like you're doing the best that you can... and that's because that's all you really can do, darling. Don't forget to give yourself some grace. You deserve it. You have done the best you can, be that creating a new chemical formula to help one eyed dogs or getting out of bed and making a piece of toast successfully, and if I could reach through this screen and squeeze you and give you a medal for doing just that I definitely would. Just look at you go. You're amazing.

Giving grace to myself has been a lesson that I have been humbly facing a lot lately. There have been some major mess-ups along the way, don't get me wrong. I've done some things I most certainly regret having done; I've been places I do not wish to go back to whatsoever. But, really, haven't we all? And when I last cracked open my Bible, it told me that Jesus came to save the broken. He came for those who were shattered into so many pieces they saw no point in hoping to ever be whole again. He came for the ones who feel like they are completely lost in a sea of things that don't make any sense at all. He came for the sick, the lost, the mocked, the helpless, the hopeless, the wronged and the wrongdoer. Jesus came for them, and he came for you. And me. And when I look into that, I really can't seem to see much else. I sit at the base of a mountain sculpted in grace just waiting for me to ask for a pebble sized bit to cover what I've done, where I've been, who I am. And so many times, I choose to try and walk away from it. I choose to wallow in the valley of hopelessness when the peaks of grace are literally sitting in rings around me. But I'm too busy trying to grow a flower with the salt-water falling from my eyes. If I would just look up. Come, love. Come and just. look. up.

Take a step back from where you are at today. Look up from the ground below you and see the dazzling beauty waiting just ahead. Focus on your image, the one traced with the fingerprints of a God who never leaves you, and take look in the mirror and give yourself the grace that He is longing to lavish on you. He knows that you're broken and messy and feel useless. But he sees the masterpiece hiding inside the mess. Let him hold you; let him show you what He has for you.

"I'm just doing the best I can..."

He knows, dear one. He knows and he could not be prouder of you. And neither could I.

Holding you close. 

-S.

Dear 13 Year Old Me,

Dear 13 Year Old Me,

I want you to know, first, how proud I am of you. You are right in the very middle of some really tough years and you are living them out like a champion. I know you don't think you are, but trust me, you'll see in a few years. You're doing better than you think you are.

I think if I could tell you anything, it would be to please live your life to the absolute fullest you possibly can. Drink in every single second. Do something impulsive. Feel regret, joy, fear, pain, sadness, loss, acceptance... it doesn't really matter much, just feel. You will never feel the same way that you do right now ever again. You'll never know this exact much about the world. You'll never see through this exact lens. You'll never get to go back to this moment, so please make it count. Make it count and live like life is ice cream with a cherry on top because it is. This life is gorgeous and wonderful and it can take you from mountaintop to valley in record time, but the opposite is also true, and we are lucky enough to experience it all. Don't take that for granted, sweet girl. Live.

Pay attention to what your teachers are telling you. They are trying to teach you about more than math, and you'll catch that if you just listen. They're really teaching you about life. Read those books that they are assigning to you, too. Some of them will capture your attention in a way you haven't experienced before, and that's going to change your life. Do the assignments that seem silly, because they're fun to look back on later, and they'll bond you to the friends that you have made during this time.

That's another thing. Make those friends. Cling to the moments you have together, because they are going to pass really quickly. You'll be going separate directions in the world before you know it. And some of these people are going to walk in the same direction as you. But many won't. And that's okay, too. Stick to who you are, and you'll find that you have some phenomenal people who stick on that road with you. But accept that it won't be everyone. People are going to let you down... it's just the nature of humanity. But you get to choose whether or not you give them the chance to do it again. And there are some that are definitely worth that chance. And others that aren't. You decide. And if you pick wrong, and someone hurts you again, know that you'll be okay. You're stronger than you will think you are in those moments. Your mom tells you all the time that "true friends are few and far between". She's right. She's really always right. The faster you accept that and listen to her advice, the better off you'll be. She will help you avoid a lot of big mistakes.

Be careful who you share your heart with, but do share it. You have a lot to offer the world. And you're going to waste time sitting across from people who love you and are trying to help you with a tight-lipped expression refusing to talk about the ache that sits deep inside of you right now. I know you're feeling it. Don't hold on to it anymore. The day you walk away and leave that weight at the foot of the cross is the most freeing day you've ever experienced. And it will take a few times trying to leave it, but ultimately picking it up and carrying it out again before you truly let it go. And it won't happen in the place you think... it's not going to be inside those four church walls. At one point, you'll find that you see and feel God more in a dance studio releasing the fullness of who you are while marveling the intricacies of the body you have been given. You'll see God more on street corners in the random acts of kindness than in the pew across the aisle next to you. It's difficult to stick it out through this. But do. You'll never know how important that church family will be to you. And I know you want everyone to like you, but don't become their doormat. Stick up for yourself. Don't let yourself be pushed down into being silent. Your voice is small right now, but my dear, it matters. It matters.

Go to West Virginia. But be prepared, you're going to leave your heart there every single year for at least the next 7 years. But that makes going back that much sweeter, you see. Your heart finally reconnects with home.

Fall in love. And fall out of love. And fall in love again. And swear off love just to have it surprise you in this crazy unexpected way. You're going to experience heartbreak and it's not going to be easy all the time. But please, please fall in love anyway. Because loving is absolutely, 100%, entirely worth the risk. You'll learn that life is a lot like a baseball game and that you cannot let the fear of striking out keep you from getting up to bat. Because there will be those moments where you see the bat collide with red seams right on the sweet spot, and you'll watch in awe as the orb you just launched into space clears the fence that seems to be a million miles away. Your dad has taught you baseball your whole life. Lean into it. Let the safety of 9 innings make you smile and take you back to sticky cotton candy fingers, sunburned shoulders, and seventh-inning stretches.

Learn how to be alone. Learn what the beat of your own heart sounds like. Make sure that, when the rest of the crowd fades away, you like who you are left alone with. If you can't ever find comfort in the solitude of being alone, then you may just be in poor company. Start back over.  Create the person that you've always wanted to be. She's in there, you just have to figure out how to let her shine through. Everyone's just looking for a place in the world. You'll see that more and more as you continue to grow. Some people find their places in bottles and others in the arms of someone they claim to be madly in love with. But, please listen to me: You cannot make homes out of human beings. Let that sink in now and save yourself some deep pain later. Your place cannot be inside of someone else. You create that place. You are that place. Recognize that.

Take chances. Jump in puddles and giggle when the water completely soaks you from the waist down. Eat ice cream straight out of the carton while watching a movie marathon with your best friend. Don't count the calories that night. I promise, the memory will be totally worth every single fat cell you think you'll gain. Know that it's okay to call someone at 2am if your heart is aching, because you'll probably receive those phone calls too. And you don't mind it either. Bake and make art and burn bagel bites in the microwave and wonder how you're ever going to make it on your own. Know, though, in those moments, that you're going to be okay.

Don't take things too seriously. There's always tomorrow. And then the next day. And you get to pick your beginning. Be brave enough to start over. And over. And over. You truly are so brave and strong and smart and you're going to surprise yourself with what you can make it through. You're going to let yourself down. You'll do some of the things you swear right now that you never will. To be honest, you'll probably do most of them. You'll mess up relationships and you'll hurt people and you'll ache for just one more moment to make things right. And that moment isn't going to come. And you're going to be left holding the totally shattered pieces of a heart you thought you could protect. It's okay that you can't. Because you'll find then, too, that you take those shattered pieces and though the process may seem slow at times, you piece them back together. You find the truth at the center of the fact that it takes brokenness to make a mosaic, and that the cracks are the only places where the light can really come in. You'll find that you need to let things go, simply for the reason that they are heavy. You're a masterpiece that you created yourself. It's a constant flow of progress, but you'll see later how beautiful the view is.

Keep being brave. You've got a pretty awesome life ahead of you. I'm proud of you. Things are definitely looking alright from here. I'll see you before you know it.

-S.