A Letter to My 13-Year-Old Self

I turned 31 this week, and I wore the first pair of earrings I got for my 13th birthday - the year I was FINALLY able to get my ears pierced. It got me to thinking about what things were important to me then, and all the life that's happened since I turned the reverse of my current age.

In a stroke of unapologetic cliche, I decided to write my 13-Year-Old self a letter, in the hope that one day a trip in the TARDIS might allow me to deliver it.

Dear 13-Year-Old Charity,

I'm so excited that you just turned 13! I remember that excitement, because I equaled it last year when I - we - turned 30.

What? 30? That seems so old to you, I know. Trust me - it's younger than you can imagine. As much as you're looking forward to being a teenager, believe me - your 30's are better. I mean, you - we - have a driver's license now. And a car. And a college degree. And those piercings in your ears aren't even the only ones in my body. And...well, I can't spoil too much.

I know what you want to know most: you want to know if I'm - you're - married now. Sorry. Spoilers! What I can tell you is that Jesus is enough to satisfy every need. Don't focus so much on getting married and having kids; focus on the fact that Jesus has already proven that He's a provider, by dying on the cross and providing for your salvation, and He proves it every day in a million ways.

You probably also want to know if you went - will go - to college. Yes, you will. But did you ever doubt that, anyway? It's both everything and nothing you expect, so enjoy the ride.

Anyway, I'm writing not only to answer your questions, but also to give you advice. Here are three things I want you to remember always:

1. Focus on the moment. Rather than try so hard to figure out when you're going to graduate, when you're going to college, when you're going to FINALLY get to plan your wedding, just...be. Be where you are, enjoy your youth while you can, and don't waste your teen years by wanting to be 20 already. You just got here. Be here for a while.
2. Focus on other people. Without spoiling anything, let me just say that you take your family relationships too much for granted. You won't always live with your three brothers (oh, sorry, you only have two right now - oops), so get to know them personally and invest in them. You won't always have your sisters, so don't waste any time by arguing about stupid stuff. Your parents won't always be in the same state (or country) as you, so soak up their wisdom and time while you can.
3. Focus on Jesus. You know this, but please start to live it. You are His princess, the daughter He planned before the foundation of the world, His special favorite. Focus on Him, get to know Him, and let His love flow through you to the people around you.

I promise that the things you're wrapped up in now won't last. Braces won't always be on your teeth. The excitement of ear piercing won't always carry you through the day. School isn't even eternally on your horizon. Oh, but doing your own laundry - yeah. Yeah, that's not going anywhere. Welcome to that.

Life will be gloriously difficult, and devastatingly easy. You'll make excellent decisions, which will surprise you. And you'll make stupid mistakes, which really won't matter that much, believe it or not. You'll experience the paradox of having your dreams come true while your plans crumble around you. You'll know utter sorrow and ultimate comfort simultaneously. You'll jump with joy even as a part of you is dying on the inside. You'll go through phases you'll regret and seasons you won't want to end. You'll write, dance, edit, and organize your way through life, and you'll love every minute - even the sucky ones. (Oh yeah, sucky is a word we say now. That's another nice thing about being grown up - you can say words like that.) 

So while I can't (or won't) answer all of your questions about the future, at least you know one thing now: you make it to 31. And the TARDIS is real, which is kind of awesome.

Love,

Future Charity

P.S. If you think about it when you're 19, send the president of Fox TV a letter asking him not to cancel "Firefly." You won't like the show at the time, but future generations and I will thank you. On second thought, if time travel is possible, someone probably already killed him so he couldn't cancel it. But, you know, it wouldn't hurt.

P.P.S. And maybe lose the fanny pack. Those weren't even cool in the 90's. Oh, and don't get too attached to scrunchies; they'll go out of style, and you'll be devastated.