To whom it may concern

The following is a letter I wrote to myself on my fortieth birthday.

Dear, Stephanie.

Congratulations, my friend! And let me just go ahead and say I know those aren't words you expected to hear from yourself. I know you weren't expecting to be happy about this day, but it is here and you are alive. So congratulations! And I know you haven't always considered us friends, but we are. It's you and me, kid. From here on out. I'm your best friend. Get used to it.

You've learned a lot these past forty years. And while it is information that will serve you well in the rest of your years, it is the past. You've made a lot of mistakes and some poor choices, but we aren't going to talk about that. Water under the bridge, my friend. Let it go.

 A teacher asked you repeatedly yesterday, "What do you want?" That's a very good question. And I think this is a great place to start when you stand at the threshold of a new decade. It is time to get specific. And for all of your talk about living with intention, it is time to start walking that out. Let's make this a year of specifics.

I love you. I think you need to hear that more. Say it more. And say it without conditions. You are beautiful. Say that, too. Your worth is in more than what other people think of you. Be yourself. Quiet. Listen. Hear that?  Remember? That's the beat only you can hear. Walk to that one. You'll have more fun.

You are courageous. That is one of the best things about you. You stand up for people. But sometimes you forget to stand up for yourself. Let's start doing that. You speak Truth, Life, and Love into other people all the time. But you withhold those words from yourself. Speak up. That is the root of your own integrity.

Dance and sing more. Read poetry aloud because you know words dance, too. Don't be ashamed of your mind. Or your heart. Laugh more often because it is true what people say, you have the best laugh. You are a healer. People tell you this. Believe it and start speaking healing over yourself daily. Hourly. Minute-by-minute when necessary.

Remember that poem you love? You know, the one by Mary Oliver. Here's your favorite part, the very end: Tell me, what it is you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?

My friend, ask yourself this today and everyday from now on. The words from the end of a poem hold the key to your new beginning.

Love,
Me
 

"The woods are lovely, dark, and deep"

The following are excerpts from Jesus Calling by Sarah Young:

"Waves of adversity are washing over you, and you feel tempted to give up. As your circumstances consume more and more of your attention, you are losing sight of me. " February 27


"Don't look for affirmation in the wrong places: your own evaluations, or those of other people. The only source of real affirmation is My unconditional Love." February 28


"You are on the right path. Listen more to Me, and less to your doubts. I am leading you along the way I designed just for you. Therefore, it is a lonely way, humanly speaking." February 29


I am realizing more and more that I have a need for a daily devotional not just as a catalyst to dig into the Word, but also as a catalyst to look inward. I need to see the things within myself that I don't want to see so I can deal with the things that need to be dealt with. The last three days of my devotional have done just that. They have spoken to my desire to just give up (not even knowing what that looks like), feelings of inadequacy, and a loneliness that is just as palpable in a room full of people as it is when I lie awake in the middle of the night.

I'm guessing this is what one gets when they offer up their own ease and comfort for forty days. Why would we expect any less when we willingly walk into the wilderness? And I guess there is no other way to comprehend God's longing for our hearts to be only His, than to have all we want stripped away--even for a short time. I know God doesn't want me to be afraid, lonely, unseen, or inadequate. But maybe I need to feel those feelings when I look to humans or circumstances to fill a need they can't possibly fill. And maybe that is the wilderness journey I have to offer these next few weeks: the willingness to walk down a dark path, alone in order to know without a doubt that Someone goes before me to make the way.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep. --Robert Frost