I see you there in your American Eagle jeans purchased with baby-sitting money. You are beautiful, little girl. I know what you're doing as you read that - you're shrugging your shoulder and saying, "Eh. You have to say that because your my mom." Well, I'm not your mom. I'm you sixteen years in the future.
This is the year you are going to meet Jesus. For real. You are going to start going to a youth group with that girl in your English class. You are looking for something - for a lot of things -and this is going to be the beginning of finding it. He is going to change your life. I know you are mad at God for some things, but there's a wonderful group of people at Homewood E.Free church just waiting to love and disciple you. The rest of your high school years will still suck at school - you will eventually have enough and find an alternative. But from the summer of 1996 on you are going to make some friends who know your issues but love you anyway.
You'll spend Monday nights with them playing Sardines and avoiding playing volleyball. You'll spend Sunday mornings on the back pew and then transition to a pew closer to the front.
another letter that I've already sent you.
You are exactly who you are supposed to be, Amanda. And the people who are worth your time accept you for that and love you no matter what. Try not to worry about the rest.
Your thirty-one year old self
(For a letter from my future-self to my present-self, go here.)