Dear Sixteen...

Dear Sixteen,

You're finally at that point that everyone's waited for. You're at the lifeisbutadream stage. You're sweet. You're innocent, but feeling much more grown up. You're full of zeal and excitement for being a young woman. Mostly.

Dear Sixteen,

It's hard seeing past the present. There's field hockey, school, One Voice rehearsals. You're almost done with high school. I guess that means you have to start thinking about college soon. That's okay. You've already got a good idea of where you want to go to school because Gordon College wants to offer you a scholarship for field hockey.

But there are bigger things on your mind and heart right now. Well. At least they seem bigger. You're increasingly more worried about how you look for the first time. Being at Laconia High School every day for drama club means you're around all these other girls... and they're so pretty. But you just sit in the farthest seat to the left of the auditorium and kick the toe of your seenbetterdays ballet flat into the steamrollered carpeting.

Dear Sixteen,

Everyone thinks you don't know anything outside of homeschool. Who would blame them? You still haven't gotten your license because you can always walk to the high school and field hockey and everything else. Trudging to and from in snow boots because of the cold weather just isn't cool and makes you feel twice as ugly, so you wear those ballet flats in the ice and brown slush for the collective twoish miles you have to walk.

Every time you pass a window or a reflective surface, you look at yourself and hope you're actually just as skinny as you look in the warped reflection.

Dear Sixteen,

You're not very good at math. Don't worry. Someday it will be over for good! Someday you won't be working at that dairy bar where all those college girls make fun of you because you always smile and barely understand the concept of a hangover. Someday, maybe you won't be comparing yourself to the way the other girls look.

Why? You don't like boys much at all. You hope you're pretty enough to not be looked over, you want to be popular, but you can't stand the thought of a guy. It confuses you thoroughly.

Dear Sixteen,

Do you know that someday there's going to be a sixteen year old sister you've got to look out for? That girl is going to sneak up on you and get taller and slimmer than you, get beautiful dark eyes, gorgeous dark hair, a glowing smile, and knack for being honest and helpful and loving. She's going to be the credit of the family with how smart she is. She's much smarter than you'll ever be.

Do you know that she'll probably go through everything you're going through? Do you know that she'll probably feel fat and ugly just like you do from time to time? But oh, she's so flawless and beautiful, and even when you're older, you'll still look on just a little jealous of her naturally dark eyelashes. It's funny how she's probably looking over at you doing the same thing. Stop worrying. Just enjoy the way things are and I promise it will be better!

Dear Sixteen,

Things are going to change so much for you in the next four years. Your 'best friends' will slip away because they come up with a bunch of reasons why you're no good in the next few months... to be replaced by a weird blonde girl named Kaitie. She's a new Christian, her family background is a complete 180 from yours, and her life is generally a shambles. You become amazingly close friends who like to fight a lot, but can't seem to get away from each other.

But she's always happy and she'll walk 4 miles with you in the barefoot, glittering, humid summer. She'll try to listen to you explain why you want to be single forever. She'll be there when guys coming knocking at your door for the first time. You don't like it, but it does make you wonder if you're not as ugly as you think. You want to stay single and alone forever with Jesus, she wants to homeschool 15 kids in a field of daisies with her husband. Things will be up and down for her. You'l try to help. But in 4 years, you'll see her get married.

Dear Sixteen,

You've always wanted to be a musician. You want to be the slicked back, skinny jeans, studs and microphone, cropped hair and headbang kinda girl. You can buy skinny jeans, but not skinny genes, so this is a hassle. You adopt a musician's lifestyle. But despite it all, you sign autographs for the first time in your life.

What would you say if I told you that you won't be going on tour with Paramore anytime soon?

Dear Sixteen,

You're going to learn martial arts. Neat, huh? You always secretly wanted to learn that. Who hasn't? You'l get scarred knuckles and lumpy scar tissue in your shins. But the best part is, you'll end up becoming a martial arts instructor. You've got a chance to influence a lot of kids and adults alike. Don't forget that for one second, no matter how mundane or hard the job becomes. 

Dear Sixteen,

In the next four years you'll cry more than you've cried in your whole life. Not always because of bad, mind you. God is going to move a lot of furniture around in the home of your heart (I can't believe I just used that analogy). You'll have gone through a thousand mornings and evenings and wake ups and falling asleeps.

You WILL get your license. You will graduate. You'll play field hockey your senior year, but because of a financial fall out with the plans you had for Gordon and Houghton and all the other colleges you wanted to go to, you'll never play field hockey again.

You'll do collegeplus. You'll moan and cry out over the unfairness of life. A year into it, you'll meet Jacob Clifton. A year later, you'll moan and cry out over the unfairness of life- this time because God won't give you all the things you loathed at sixteen. And despite the fact that you're the one who's changed, it's God's fault, somehow.

That makes no sense. But ah, Sixteen, just you wait. Despite how ridiculous that rational seems right now, Twenty just can't see it and she won't be able to for a bit, I'm afraid.

Dear Sixteen,

Don't stress out too much about the health issues you've got right now. You'll finally heal in about 3 years, I promise. Don't worry about school. About friends. About singleness. About being too fat or skinny or ugly or pretty.

You've got so much to life for. The world is expanding. Things will hurt. Things will be beautiful. Go out and see it all.