Dear 18-Year-Old Self,

I turned 38, and wrote a letter reflecting on the past 20 years.

I just celebrated my 38th birthday. When I turned 28, I wrote a letter to my 18-year-old self — reflecting on all the ways life had surprised me, challenged me, and shaped me in those first ten years of adulthood. It was sweet and earnest and full of advice I didn’t fully understand.

This year, I decided to do it again. Another decade. Another letter. Only this time, the words came out differently. It is less prose and more poetry. Maybe because these last ten years have asked more of me. Maybe because I’ve found that not everything needs to be explained to be understood. Either way, I’m grateful for this life and all the lessons I have learned.

Dear 18-Year-Old Self,

Sweet girl, I wish I could give you a hug.
The kind that holds on a little too long
but is an embodied reminder that you matter.

You know that saying, it’s like riding a bike?
When I picture you in my mind,
I can still feel the chaos buried deep in your chest.
I can sense how shallow your breath is
and the burden of responsibility you carry.
But it is all tempered with this sincere joy
and genuine care for people. All people.

First, I want you to know how beautiful you are.
And how beautiful life is.
The next 20 years will take you down paths
you could have never imagined.
You’ll find yourself braving the wilderness
of heartache and grace.
There will be seasons that feel so isolating,
And disorienting. 
They will leave you wondering if you have the survival skills
to make it out alive. 

But then right when you need it, 
As if love was looking out for you
After all
There will be manna waiting for you on the ground.
Grace to catch you
And a community to affirm you. 

You have seen and experienced 
The worst of humanity
But I can testify that it has not made you jaded.
At least not yet.
I will say that trust is hard.
Letting people in?
Even harder.

You’ll spend years collecting  all the right words 
To verbally process, and try to reach an actualized self
But you’ll eventually learn
that your body has kept its own story
and that healing has to happen there too.

It’s funny the things that circle back around. 
That spark of creativity you have, 
It never leaves. 
Eventually you’ll pick up a paintbrush.
and watercolor, 
this unpredictable and uncontrollable medium
Will become a form of prayer. 
It will crack something open 
that all of those words could not reach.

I think so much of life feels like a race to the future.
They, whoever they is, 
hands you boxes to check at the appropriate time
college, career, marriage, success —
the American dream on a conveyor belt.
But nobody asks where the boxes came from
in the first place.

Your life will not fit in those boxes.
Thank God.
So here’s what I’d tell you:
Ask lots of questions.
Be where your feet are.
Breathe deep — I mean it, deep,
the kind of breath that settles your soul
And feels like an embrace. 
Cultivate your creativity.
Invest in your friendships.
Learn to let people show up for you.
I know that’s the hardest thing I’ve said.
Do it anyway.
Let life unfold however it comes
without attaching your worth to the outcome.
Keep speaking up.
For yourself. For others. For the truth.

It brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it, but 
You are going to become someone
your 18-year-old self would look up to.
and I’m so proud of you. 

Always grace,
Rev. Dr. Amber Lea :)
38 years old

P.S. Dear 28-year-old self,
these next 10 years are wild.
Really, you wouldn’t believe me
even if I told you.
You’re still protecting stories
That you don’t have to.
Just hold on, 
Healing is coming.

If you want to read the letter I wrote when I turned 28, then you can do that here.

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