A Letter To Myself

"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"
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening, by Robert Frost


Dear Me, (and You)

There are and will be times when you feel as though the bit from the poem above was never more true. There will be times when you will wonder how you can possible get it all done and how it will ever work out. There will be times (such as now) when the future feels daunting. Sure, it can feel exciting (change! returning! fresh start!), yet it's okay to admit that those same things also feel overwhelming (change! unknown! starting over!). It's all pieces of the same puzzle, one which won't be seen as a whole until the very end.

Remember when you (I) were about ten years old and memorized "Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening" for the first time? It was one of the first poems you ever memorized. Line by line it came into your head so that anytime you wanted, you could pull it from your heart. With an upcoming move and looking for a new job and all the uncertainties and unknowns which come with that, you've known for some time that every little part of it will have to come line by line. You've known that it will be (and has been) a long road of saying goodbye, not just to people but to all the other things as well, such as familiar roads and beloved coffee shops, of mountains and foods, of a terrace garden and your home of five years. It will be a tedious time of deciding which physical things to jettison and which to bring with you. There will be so many people asking the same questions over and over that it will make you want to record your answers and play them off to friends and strangers alike. You will feel purposeful, brave, small, and lost, all at once.

So remember: line by line, word by word, stanza by stanza. One day, it will make a whole.

Remember that even when you feel as though you should be doing other things, such as packing two months early, that's it's okay to let yourself wind down in the evenings with Netflix or a book. Remember that you will cry, because it's been awhile now of feeling vulnerable and fearful, and that this is okay. Remember that along with the fear, you are courageous. Maybe, most of us are just whistling in the dark anyway. I believe that there are times when the darkness is particularly heavy and deep, but that just makes the pinpricks of light and the snatches of song that much more beautiful. Recall how you've caught your breath on the incredulity of hope in the midst of despair, and therein felt a whisper of the promise of eternity.

Remember that life is messy. Sometimes you'll try and try and try to jam a piece of the puzzle in where it doesn't fit. Sometimes it will fit right away but not make any sense at first.

Have faith, dear one. Remember, within your sighs, to try and repent of your sins as much as you ask for things (you won't ever fully succeed, but try anyway), and to give plenty of time for praise. Maybe, your most frequent prayers are, "Oh please oh please oh please oh please", followed by a hurried, "thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou". Think of this, sigh again, and remember to say a real prayer, complete with Bible reading and kneeling. No one else in your life would stand for such one-sided, needy communication. Why, then, should God? Remember that, and do better.

Remember to stop by woods on a snowy evening and watch them fill up with snow. (No, not literally, since you've never lived someplace with snow, but in other ways). Remember to sing when you're alone, and even to dance, because it cheers you. Remember to memorize more poetry, because it speaks to your soul. Such things may not seem to be of any use, yet because they are meaningful to you they will make you a richer person, which should in turn enrich others through sharing a more bountiful spirit.

Sometimes you are impatient with yourself. Sometimes you don't understand. Remember a moment like this when you consider yourself with tenderness, with care, with grace. You're alright. You're alright.

Though it may feel like miles to go until you sleep, take care, and sleep well and deeply when you do.

With love,

Myself