I met my younger self for coffee.

We were both on time.

She was trying not to be too early. I was trying not to be too late. She asked if I lived on a little homestead. I told her we had an apartment for a little while but actually moved back in with mom and dad.

She could read between the lines. I knew she assumed I’d at least have a husband by now. Living in our own house.

I reached out to start to reassure her, but she spotted the tattoo on my forearm. She recognized the semicolon, and the word “endure” before it didn’t make her feel any better about the ink on my skin.

Before I could explain why I got it, she said, “So things never get better.”
It was a statement. Not a question.

Her voice felt flat as she asked why. I recognized the glassy look in her eyes as she began to shut down. She’s used to being disappointed. But she never expected to be a disappointment to herself.

I told her things actually get a lot better. But it was going to be hard for a while yet.

But after the hard things, it does get better, I reiterated. I tell her I’m not on any prescribed medication anymore. Not even the ones they just told her she’d have to take the rest of her life. And I’m the happiest and healthiest she’s ever been.

I could tell she didn’t quite believe me. And I knew there was nothing I could do to convince her.

I knew there was still one thing that might encourage her, though. I told her to keep writing that book she’s working on. It’s going to take her places she never imagined.

Her eyes widened and she nearly screamed as she excitedly asked who published it. I just smiled and told her she’d have to wait and see.

The truth is, that book will never see the public light of day, but her belief in it is what gets her to where I am today.

She had to leave,
but asked if I had any last advice.

“Keep singing. Don’t give up on it yet. And the first time God tells you He called you to write, you should take that seriously. But even if you don’t, He’ll still work it out for good beyond your wildest dreams.”

She nodded, though she can’t imagine why I would ever consider giving up those things in the first place.

I stayed seated for a while longer, and a few tears fell down my cheeks once she was gone. I heard God softly remind me that He was looking out for her. I told Him I knew He was.

She has a long road ahead of her, but one day she’ll pour herself a cup of coffee and realize she’s now the age I was when we met for coffee. She’ll look down at the coffee cup in her hand, her eyes straying to the tattoo now on her own forearm.

She’ll laugh at first, and then be brought to tears, realizing that when she thought she was too weak, she was actually strong enough to endure.