Dear Little Me,

You don’t care, do you? You don’t care at all. Their opinion doesn’t sway you one bit. Their perceptions of you and this whole situation? Doesn’t phase you a second.

That 6th birthday card, those wrapped-up presents with pretty pink bows on top, the birthday party that made you feel oh so special? You’re just loving it. Loving it.

You don’t care if they thought you were too happy, too proud, too excited about this thing just for you.

You don’t try to get inside their heads, wondering how they feel about this or that. You just are. And they just are.

You don’t change yourself to accommodate them. You’re happy. You’re excited. And you’re showing it. You’re living it.

It doesn’t really matter what they think, does it?

Little girl. Hear me out. Don’t spend a lifetime getting in their heads. Don’t worry what they think. Don’t bend to their every need.

Don’t change you. for them.

And another thing…

The weight of the world is not on your shoulders. The weight of their world is not on your shoulders.

What they think, how they perceive you, how their world compares to yours? None of it’s your weight to bare. It’s your weight to share.

Care, but don’t worry.

Share, but don’t concern yourself to the point of fatigue.

Dare to believe that your opinion counts just as much as theirs.

Their happiness is not paramount to yours. And your fulfillment in life is not dependent on their fulfillment.

Listen…

They won’t be fully themselves, unless you’re fully you.

So little girl, keep being you. And don’t worry so much about them.

Because if you’re not you? Then God’s great big world isn’t fully itself either.

 

 

 

*This series is inspired in part by a blog post I wrote in January 2014 titled “Go. Like It Matters. Go. Like It’s Your Life.” And in part by Bonnie Gray’s new book, Finding Spiritual Whitespace. For more information about WHY I’m writing this series, click here to read the first post of this series titled “Restoring the Little Girl Voice (Part 1).”

Dear Little Me,

I stared at this picture of you forever.

Something about it’s paralyzing to my soul.

I can’t capture what it is.

Why am I staring at a girl so brave? A girl so free? A girl so pure?

Where did she go?

When did she get lost?

Why was she kidnapped in the darkness of daylight?

Little girl, I invite you back.

Trust, with me.

Smile, with me.

Love, with me.

Wait, with me.

Be, with me.

I need this little girl. This little one. Blindfolded, but free.

Little girl, teach me, tell me.

How do you trust with such abandon?

How do you wait so patiently?

How do you know, without thinking once, that it’s going to be alright?

How do you smile in the unknowing?

How do you love, just love, love your life?

Little girl, you’re welcome back.

I need you now.

It’s time for you, little girl, to be me.

All of me.

 

 

 

*This series is inspired in part by a blog post I wrote in January 2014 titled “Go. Like It Matters. Go. Like It’s Your Life.” And in part by Bonnie Gray’s new book, Finding Spiritual Whitespace. For more information about WHY I’m writing this series, click here to read the first post of this series titled “Restoring the Little Girl Voice (Part 1).”

Dear Little Me,

Look at that hair. Just look at that hair.

You don’t care about your hair.

You let it be. Wild and free.

Big.

Flowing.

Part wavy. Part straight.

Bushy, but beautiful.

Beautiful.

Why not leave it at that, little girl?

Leave it at that.

Let it be.

Wild and free.

The way God meant it to be.

Perhaps you’ll learn to hide it, spray it, tame it, sleek it.

Perhaps you’ll wonder if you should just cut it all off.

Be gone, bushy hair.

Be gone, you ugly, not pretty wavy mess.

Be gone.

Be gone.

Perhaps they’ll tell you it’s like Brook Shield’s hair.

Perhaps you’ll believe you need a celebrity stylist to manage this bush.

Perhaps they’ll tell you it’s not like hers, hers, hers or hers.

Perhaps they’ll say you can’t cut it this way, can’t style it that way.

Perhaps you’ll want to replace it. Perhaps you’ll wish it wasn’t yours.

But don’t, girl. Don’t. Don’t wish it away.

What if you wore it wild and free?

What if you just let it be?

What if you just didn’t care about that hair?

What if you embraced it, let that hair keep being what it wants to be, let that little girl be who she wants to be?

Because girl? You’re wild. You’re unbridled, running and frolicking free.

That hair’s flowing. That hair’s growing. That hair’s letting loose.

Girl, it’s not so much about your hair as it is that you care.

It’s not so much about your hair as it is that you dare. To be wild. To be free. To let it be.

It’s not so much about your hair as it is that you’re aware. That beauty runs deep. In heart places, in soul places, in places unseen.

So little girl? Just let that hair be. Who cares.

Let your beauty shine however it wants to shine.

Wild. Free. Big. Flowing. Wavy. Straight. Bushy. Beautiful.

It’s all you, girl.

It’s all you.

Leave it. at that.

Let it be.

 

 

 

*This series is inspired in part by a blog post I wrote in January 2014 titled “Go. Like It Matters. Go. Like It’s Your Life.” And in part by Bonnie Gray’s new book, Finding Spiritual Whitespace. For more information about WHY I’m writing this series, click here to read the first post of this series titled “Restoring the Little Girl Voice (Part 1).”

 

Dear Little Me,

I love this picture of you, of me.

Look at you, little you. There’s something you need to see.

See the care in your face.

See your smile.

See your love, your patience.

See your arm resting gently on her shoulder.

See your concern for her. Not anyone around.

See the way you’re looking deeper, peering longer into the face of that sleeping beauty, wondering if you should wake. Or wait.

See the way she’s trusting.

She her arm’s resting.

See the way you’re in this together.

See the quiet. See the space. See patience in the knowing, patience in the waiting.

See you. Holding that book close, tight.

You. You’re wise. Keep holding your dearest things close, but your dearest even closer.

Keep looking, little you. Keep loving. Keep wondering how you’ll wake her.

And keep your smile. Because it won’t always be this easy.

But this. This. Is really all God’s called you to.

The simplicity of this.

To be present.

To love.

To see.

To wait. Patiently.

To know. When the time’s right to wake, to give voice to those slumbering beauties.

To hold your dearest near.

Yes, dear.

Stay this way always.

 

 

 

*This series is inspired in part by a blog post I wrote in January 2014 titled “Go. Like It Matters. Go. Like It’s Your Life.” And in part by Bonnie Gray’s new book, Finding Spiritual Whitespace. For more information about WHY I’m writing this series, click here to read my blog post titled “Restoring the Little Girl Voice (Part 1).”

 

It’s as if her 9-year-old eyes suddenly opened wide to the world of women, to the world of other mothers this week.

“Why don’t you dress sporty, like her?”

“Why don’t you like iced coffee, like her?”

“Are you a crafty mom? I want you to have a bead room like that. I bet if you were a crafty mom I’d want to do a project every day. I’d want to make a bracelet with beads every single day.”

I explained why I only dress sporty when I work out and not every day like she wishes I would.

I explained why I don’t like iced coffee, why I don’t like any kind of coffee at all.

I explained that I’m not much of a crafty mom, why I probably won’t ever have a bead room.

It’s all really a matter of fact. But my explanations seemed to fall short.

I wondered if I’d let my daughter down a little when I explained why I’m not any of those things.

That 9-year-old of mine – she wanted me to be more of a sporty mom, she wanted me to be more of a hip iced coffee drinking mom, she wanted to know if I’d ever identify myself as a crafty mom. And I told her no. On all three accounts.

I let myself go down that ugly, ugly road of lies for just a moment. You know the lies…maybe I’m not the kind of mom she wants, maybe I’m not the kind of mom she needs, maybe I’m not the kind of mom she secretly wishes she had. Ugh. Ugly lies. Ugly, ugly lies.

Perhaps my matter-of-fact 11 1/2-year-old son got it right when he responded bluntly to my daughter with this…

“She’s not a crafty mom, SHE HAS A BLOG!!”

Yep. He got it right, didn’t he?

I’m not a sporty mom, I’m not a hip iced coffee drinking mom, and I’m not a crafty mom. But I am a bloggy mom.

These conversations got me thinking about something I’ve thought of many times before. One of my greatest dreams as a mother is for my adult children to look up to me and think of me as beautiful, classy, wise, faithful, patient, loving, and kind. I want them to come to me for advice. I want them to know I’m an open book, here for them anytime. I want them to look at me and see what strength paired with humility looks like. I want them to see a servant heart in me, and I want them to think that’s so, so cool. I want my children to see me living out my dreams, living out my calling, and I want them to be empowered to do the same. And when it comes to my daughters, especially, I pray they’re honored and proud to call me mom.

So I quietly beg God, plea with God, ask Him to pour His grace and favor on me in regards to these matters of the heart. Help that 11-year-old heart, 9-year-old heart, and 2-year-old heart grow to see me for WHO I AM rather than who I’m not. And help me be the mom I want to be for my children, because it’s not always as easy as it seems.

Before we wrap up that conversation about me not being a crafty mom, I encourage her 9-year-old heart. “You know, when you’re a mom, in fact, maybe even when you’re just a little older, like in high school or something, you can be crafty if you want. That would be awesome. You can pick whatever craft you’d love to do and you can get really good at it. I think that would be great for you because I know you’re really creative and you like to do creative things.”

“Ya,” she says. “Ya.”