Writer B

Dear 6-year-old me,

I only have 15 minutes to write you this very important letter because, (you may not believe this) you grow up to write for FUN. In fact, you and your sister write for fun together. (I know, I know, the last few years with her have been a little rough. Don’t worry, she’s settling down, and you’re going to spend the rest of your childhood and adulthood being the closest of friends.)

Yes, you and Emily are going to have the sweetest relationship, and you are going to just keep loving your family so much. No teenage rebellion for you! I’m sorry to say that you are going to move away from Illinois eventually. I know, it’ll be sad. But you and your mom and dad and sister will love each other through it, and it will turn out to be such a good thing!

Right now you may still be feeling a little sad that your friend Brian, who you rather liked, has been ignoring you ever since school started. Don’t you worry about that one bit. Things work out really well because you get to marry this wonderful guy named Todd. Yes yes, I know. You have a fish named Todd. This one is much handsomer.

Human-Todd is smart and tall and funny, and he really likes you. You’re gonna go all kinds of places with him! You’ll live in deserts and mountains and you’ll visit Europe and Asia, and after a while he’ll start a software business (software? right…it’s for computers…never mind), and you’ll get to be a part of that a little bit but you’ll be really busy with all your kids.

“All your kids”?! That’s right, little girl. You and human-Todd will have FOUR kids, and they’re ALL gonna be boys! But don’t worry, having all boys turns out to be pretty awesome. In fact, I think these boys are the type of boys you’d be friends with. The oldest one even read (and liked!) Anne of Green Gables recently. But…even you haven’t read that yet.

You have so many good books in your future! Read them and love them! You’re going to make so many friends in those books, and your head is going to get so full of all the words you read that you’re going to want to write your own words. It’s going to be great!

I think I said “don’t worry” a lot in this letter…this may mean you have a tendency to worry. I apologize for that. Still working on it, but it gets better.

At six years old, things are already pretty good. But…it gets even better.

Writer D

Dear Little Cedar,

I love you. I want you to know that I see you. I know you are feeling lost in the crowd, at school and at home. I want to just wrap you in my arms and listen to your stories. Kids can be mean, that’s for sure! I know you take it hard. I love your tender heart. Remember that it can be a strength, not just a weakness, if you can find ways to see and care for others who are hurting too.  People will let you down. Don’t be surprised when it happens. It doesn’t mean that there’s anything wrong with you. Life is just hard, Little Cedar. But hard can be good. That’s what I have learned from living 3 more decades. You’re going to be okay in the end. You will find good friends. And you will learn to be a really good friend too, largely from the hard stuff. So hang in there, it will get easier to relate to your peers eventually.

Oh, and I wish I could help you understand that all the stress Mom and Dad are going through right now has nothing to do with you. I know you’re a sweet little girl, doing the best you can to help them. But sometimes there’s nothing you can do to make it better. And it’s really not yours to fix. Suicide and Vikki’s death, court battles, dad being hospitalized for pnemonia, all on top of starting kindergarten with no preschool experience. That’s a lot for a little six year old to face after such isolation before this.

What I really want to tell you about, Little Cedar, is Jesus. You don’t know Him yet, but He knows you. He has you safely in his arms. I am sorry that you don’t know it. But it doesn’t make it any less true. He’s drawing you into His very own heart. You will be one with Him one day. And it doesn’t mean that all your questions will be answered or that everything will makes sense finally. No, it doesn’t mean that. But it does mean that you are going to be okay. You are loved. You are seen. You are not invisible.

I love you, Little Cedar, and Jesus does too.

Love, Big Cedar

Writer A

Dear six-year-old me,

When you move to Arizona, find ways to connect with nature. There will be lots more sun and not enough grass, but pay attention to the evenings. Stare at the sky. Try to paint it. Watch the evening shadows. Smell the orange blossoms in the spring.

Other kids don’t sit still and don’t want to analyze a subject from multiple angles. You’ll panic all the time at how quickly conversations move around you. Breathe in humility. Humility will make you able to be quiet, when the conversation leaves you. It will make you ready for the next conversation. You don’t have to try to be interesting. Just learn to be at peace.

I met God once in the woods recently. But mostly you will need to walk by faith, to believe that the words He spoke are true, without seeing visible proof. Act as though His words are true, even if you don’t want to. Get ready to meet Him someday.

Writer C

Dear Six-Year-Old Self,

If I could go back in time to see you, I’d take your tiny hands in mine, and together, hand in hand, we’d take a sledgehammer of truth to all of your dreams and smash them into a thousand pieces.

First of all, quit dreaming of marrying Jonathan Taylor Thomas. You’ll find that as you get older, you’re so different from one another; it’s really not worth all the diary entries about him. And anyway, when you’re both fully grown, you’ll end up about six inches taller than him.

As far as occupations, you won’t be a whale trainer – you didn’t even pass Biology the first time. Also, you’ll end up watching a documentary called, “Blackfish” which will cause you to never want to enter [that aquatics entertainment arena] ever again.

Also, keep all your quirks. There will come a time very soon when you’ll question whether to be true to your make-up, or give in to the ways of all the popular kids. It will be hard, but stay you.

I guess in the end, it was all your quirks, your mistakes, your silly dreams of who you’d marry, and what you’d do for a living that really made up who you are, It’s sort of like attending a Paint Night, where it feels exciting at first, but with the first few strokes of the brush it feels uncomfortable, and awkward and a bit unbalanced. But as you work through it, a nice picture shows up, and you get to take home an okayish piece of art that would had received at least a B+ (which is more than you could say about your Biology grade).

So, really, you sweet, quirky girl, keep dreaming, relax, don’t be afraid to make mistakes. Actually, the more I write, the more I realize that I would have benefited more by reading a letter written from you.   

This was our prompt:

Write a letter to Your 6-Year-Old Self – 15 minute challenge