A letter from August 30th, 2020

Dear Anna, Hey girly! It’s me— well, you. As you’ve probably remembered by the time you’ve opened this email, this is a little letter I’m writing to you. If I haven’t changed too much, you probably saw it, did that tongue-click and half-smile thing, brought your hand to your chest, and thought, “Awww! I remember this!”. And now you’re smiling. Maybe chuckling, too. You’re adorable. Now you laughed! This’ll be, what, the seventh letter I’ve written myself? One has a deadline coming up at graduation. Can’t believe I wrote it almost four years ago. This specific letter is for an assignment, though, so I don’t plan to ramble quite as much. Gotta check the boxes, y’know. As I type this, I’m sitting on my bed, just having snapped D-lo about not getting too drunk this time (sigh, stupid Austrian alcohol rules), MA about how fun Poker is (yay for a growing friendship with her), and Tori about dinner plans for tonight (pizza, lemonade, and conversation with Victoria Cavitt— what could be better?). Do you still talk to them, to any of the Party People or Ignite crew or “lunch crew” or CC girls or youth group? I saw an Instagram post a few months ago about a parent telling her kids about her “high school friends” and how much they shaped who she was. I hope I don’t take them for granted, I don’t want them just to be my “high school friends”. These people really changed your life, you know. Knowing God, knowing yourself, knowing how to love other people. They did that (well, He did it through them). Go call them up. The stuffed cat Grandma gave me is by my side— I hope you still have that. I hope she’s still able to smile about it. Papa still hurts if I think about it too much… I pray you haven’t taken her, or Nana and Grampy, for granted these past years. You’ve had some really solid people in your life, Anna girl. They frustrate the heck out of me sometimes, but I know I’m going to be grateful for them all. Mom’s still your bestie, right? Dad’s still your first call to explain the universe? You still tease Ethan about everything, and probably Matthew now too? Gosh, a lot of people have impacted me. It’s overwhelming to think of them all. Well, as I said, there’s a couple specific things I’m supposed to address here. Already touched on the people, maybe I’ll come back to it with more specifics in a little while. I hope this won’t be too terribly long— sorry, Mr. Nantz. I talk to myself a lot. So. “Me, Right Now”. I’m kind of in a waiting season at the moment (yeah, yeah, Christianese. It fits!). I feel like that’s what seventeen is: preparing for the “real world” without really going anywhere yet. I’m grateful for life, I’m tired sometimes, I wish I was a better songwriter, I cannot stand the emotional roller coaster of you-know-what that I still can’t seem to fully get off of. I’m excited for the Bible study with Angelika, the Old Testament Survey class, deeper relationships with my small group gals, and this new adventure of online school as much as I kind of hate it. The testimonies from Ignite were just beautiful— He is so cool, as confusing as His actions are. About that— I heard the coolest quote from Melissa Helser on a podcast this afternoon: “If you don’t know His nature, you’ll question His motives.” Like, woah. I love that perspective. Just like Prof Lasseter was talking about: you need the whole picture for the stories to make sense. I’ve felt at peace the past few days. It’s refreshing. Screw you, anxiety. Please don’t get wrapped up in the “trials of the world”, Anna. You’re more than that. You are His and that’s enough, remember? “My Home”. This is easy. Do you remember that evening maybe a month ago, when you just laid on your back on the concrete for an hour and watched the bats and talked to God? Or the secret dock way back in FL, writing a hymn, or the shed late at night where no one could hear you. That’s home. Quiet, alone, with Him and nothing else. It’s a beautiful silence, even in the times when I’m confused or hurt or angry. Maybe that’s what Jesus felt on the mountains or in the garden— just Him and the Father, under the moon or up with the sunrise. Him and the earth, worshipping. Don’t lose that, okay? Know those pockets of Home. “What I Do”. This is tougher. It seems like all the college search and career tests ask me this, and I don’t quite know what to say. Well, I love music (no way). I want to write lyrics like Mark Hall, play piano like Fernando Ortega, sing like Bethany Dillon, and play violin like Vicki Schmidt. I want to tell stories and play songs that bring people together into His presence, I want to continue to teach eager hearts the beauty of music and its power in worship to the God who created it. I love to learn. I want to keep learning about the world around me and the people in it; I want to keep getting excited about all the names for God and the beauty a few sentences can convey and the patterns of creation that reveal themselves over and over and over again; I want to simply know my God and His world. I love people. I want to be a shoulder to lean on and a teacher of the Word and a wife and a mother; I want to serve and love and find moments of joy in the mundane exchanges of life; I want to be surrounded by people who lift me up so that I can go into the depths and lift up others. I want to live life to the fullest, fueled by the “abundant life” He offers. I guess I’m kind of bleeding into the “My Future” category. I still don’t know what I want to “be”, other than to have a family eventually. Right now I’m falling back on the possibility of being a guidance counselor, maybe. To help people and watch them succeed (and learn a lot of psychology, which is always cool). Or maybe somewhere in the social work field— hey, if I end up at Campbell, maybe I’ll help Tori with whatever awesome thing she ends up doing. Montreat’s educational studies program looks really neat, though— a pathway to social work, or teaching, or homeschooling, or counseling. There’s just so many “maybes”. Wish you could hop back in time half a decade and explain what exactly it is I’m doing. But hey, maybe you still don’t know. Maybe you did end up following Dad’s footsteps and you’re somewhere doing some cool thing alone and still figuring out where He’s leading you long-term. Or maybe somebody’s about to walk into my life in a certain way (yes, I’m thinking about who you think I’m thinking about) and by this point you’ve been married for a little while. Maybe you even have a lil munchkin or two you’re bringing up in the Lord. Gosh, maybe you’re with Jesus already, and no one‘s reading this. That’s weird to think about. Twenty-two. You’re freaking 22. I can’t even imagine it, really. Like I was telling Mom— I have a better grip of where I wanna be at 40 than at 22. Crazy. I pray you have a group of friends as good as you do now, or that these ones are still in your life. It’s an odd place to be in right now— what with Kendall heading off to Florida and Tori and Jobe having graduated and Julia mourning about it all. I don’t know why I’m anxious about them leaving but also about the idea of being friends with them for life. Maybe it’s because we moved around so much before and I don’t have that picture of commitment in that way. Maybe it’s just that weird fear of commitment I can’t seem to shake. I’m sure Eva’s stuck around in some way, though; she’s good at that. I’m grateful for her. The last section here, unlabeled in the doc, is probably the easiest. “This I know to be true”: That Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners, that He died and was resurrected on the third day, and that His grace and mercy is the only thing I can hold to for salvation. This I know is true. I may not know how He works all the time, or why He steps into some situations but not all, or what His exact commands are in every situation, or the multitude of other questions you probably still have. But as Paul said— all I know is Christ and Him crucified. That, I will stand on forever. You are His, Julianna Grace. You are His and that’s enough. Can’t wait to see what He does with your (our?) life ♡ With anticipation, 17-year old you.