It’s not uncommon to read letters written retrospectively to one’s younger self. Often these are intended to help those living in the early seasons of life to avoid certain mistakes, let go of unnecessary anxieties, and understand a little better about what’s actually going to count and what won’t as they get older. As gestures of wisdom from one generation to another, it’s invaluable that messages such as these continue to be shared.
Lately, however, I’ve been giving thought to writing a variant note of this kind, one where I convey sentiments in a letter to my older self, on the person I hope to be in later seasons of life. Perhaps this is an exercise you might consider doing as well. You can address your younger self as a way of reflecting on what has been and how your experience might benefit others, or your older self on what is yet to be and how the time ahead might be approached with greater intention. In view of this new year and the start of a new decade, my mind has been on the latter. So far then, these are some thoughts I’ve penned to my older self:
Dear Somewhere Around Eighty-Year-Old Me,
Hard to imagine you’ve arrived at this place in the journey of life, and I know the time has come faster than you ever imagined it would. I hope at this point you’ve had more adventure, made more friends, and loved more people than even two lifetimes could hold, and have written a page or two along the way telling of your tales. From where I sit now in my thirties, I’d like to share some words with you that I hope you’ll take to heart for the season you’re living in now. There’s no particular order, just some things I want to be sure you know…
Do your best to remember that young people, for the most part, live in a space where pure, abounding fun is had as they are not stifled by thoughts of consequence; where imagination runs wild, injuries heal quickly, and concern of the aging process is nil. Allow, and even help them to stay there a while, not being quick to yank youths from this blissful season which life will soon enough have its own way of doing. Don’t get hung up so much in kids being safe. Remember that bruises are far quicker to heal than regrets, and some adventures are worth the wounds. Encourage young people to leap, whether off a cliff into the ocean or across the world on mission. For if they do so while young, they will likely be willing to do so in all manner of ways their whole life through. Give people a free hand to be free.
Please, I beg you, older me, never to become grumpy. Instead, aim to become neater with each passing day, taking from every experience and building your life on the goodness therein. And don’t you dare ever go feeling sorry for yourself, no matter what hand you’re dealt. Your life has been remarkable, blessed beyond what seems reasonable for any one person to experience. Freely give your praise to those you find doing good work, especially those younger in ministry. God will affirm them, but they need you to cheer them on, to say, “Way to go!” Even if you see they have yet far more to learn, be in their corner still; never let jealously or your matured experience hinder your willingness or ability to say, “I’m proud of you…” Be known for kindness, for being approachable to all. Be glad for what has been, and look for the gift in all that is now and will be.
Keep writing—regardless if anyone ever reads or much less likes your work—do it because you love to write for writing sake, it’s your favorite creative outlet. And as long as your body can stand it, keep skiing, surfing, and wakeboarding too! And when the day comes when you are not able to participate physically, delight in others as they discover the same joy these activities gave you for so many years. But by whatever means necessary, do keep making your way to the mountains. God always seems to find you there, to meet with you in some special way as you draw closer to Him in those heavenly heights of beauty. Always remember your love for the mountains, and get there even if only in your mind.
As the wrinkles continue to deepen and your brown hair has long transitioned to grey, remember that your outward self has never been the most beautiful part of you. Long ago you decided to take Psalm 34:4-5 to heart, and live in the light of the truth it claims, and it would do no good to abandon that now. “I sought the Lord, and He answered me, and delivered me from all my fears. They looked to Him and were radiant, and their faces will never be ashamed.” You want a face lift? Keep looking to Jesus, sister, He has always been your radiance. Embrace wearing glasses, get hearing aids when needed, use a wheelchair, whatever it takes to not let vanity steal your happiness or keep you from enjoying what you love to do (like going to the movies and visiting with friends!). I do apologize though that my actions have probably caused you by now to need artificial knees and hips. But remember how fun the ride was in getting to those replacements! By now too, I’m sure technology is science fiction level advanced…keep learning, ask for help, adapt as you are able to stay up with the times and be in contact with those you love and the world at large.
By this time your father, your hero, has passed and likely many others too who have mentored and treated you as their own and even friends have gone from this earth. Hold tightly to the memory of how widely and deeply you have been loved. You must find the strength, even in what I know will be a season marked by great sadness and loss, to keep asking God for eyes to see and a heart to respond in continuing to pass on that love and invest in the lives of others until your final chapter comes to a close. You are not obsolete, every day of your life has purpose, even if limited solely to intercessory prayer, and I want you to always persevere in that reality.
And remember, you, Jesus has never turned His back on you, so don’t you dare go turning your back on Him, no matter what. He has never left you, always been faithful in every high and low, and will be so until He carries you to your true and lasting home with Him. And when the time to die is yours, step into that moment in full assurance of the beginning of true life as you have never known it, as being just on the other side of your final earthly breath.
I look forward to meeting you, older me…and I hope when you look back over your life, you are tickled and pleased at what you see and that you think of me with fondness.
See you soon,
Courtney Jo, age 36
P.S. Try not to get stuck on using any one kind of perfume for too long a time. Keep it fresh and keep ‘em guessing!