Dear Allie,
I can’t believe you are in sixth grade. Ok, you’ve been in sixth grade for a while now…but in my classic well-known slowness, I am just now processing this. I can’t believe how fast time has gone by.
When you were younger, we knew you were bold, free-spirited, and fiercely independent. You knew what you wanted and did it with no regrets or explanations. You would draw and imagine and sing and dance unapologetically. You loved dinosaurs and lizards and snakes even though other girls were playing Barbie. You never did like a camera, and made that well-known, but that was our problem and not yours. You were so sure of yourself. But what I remember most is the singing…you would find a song you liked and listen to it over and over until you knew every word, belting it out around the house.
https://youtube.com/shorts/FFvIi9Z3mUE?si=WsjuIFMKOLlRdcVD
And then, one day, you stopped singing.
But the truth is, you didn’t. I know this because when we started leaving you home by yourself for a little bit here and there, once you were old enough, you said you loved to be home alone because you could sing as loud as you wanted,
When no one can listen. When no one can criticize or judge. Because at almost 12 years old, that is all you worry about.
I know this because I remember it well, the moments when I stopped dreaming out loud and started dreaming in secret. When I stopped following my heart for fear of judgement or embarrassment.
Fear. Self-doubt. Comparison. All wicked thieves of childhood, of our true gifts and passions and purpose.
I too, used to draw and create and sing. I would run in front of movie theater screens and dance and perform and not think twice. I would write stories and proudly read them aloud. I would draw and draw and love everything I created because it was mine. I would sing broadway songs and whatever the Disney princess ballads were at the time and I was confident I was just as talented as them. I would dream and hope with unashamed abandonment.
And then I started to grow up. I saw sad things in the world. People told me things about myself that started to stick. Not so good things. I was weird, I wanted attention, etc. I wasn’t just a cute, fun little kid anymore. I felt like I needed to hide the things that I loved about myself. I had to learn hard things. I had responsibilities. Other kids were good at things too. Better even, then me. Maybe I wasn’t so great. Maybe I should just start being quiet and being more like everyone else. Maybe I needed to worry about people liking me instead of just doing what I liked.
These thoughts, of course, are not true. But at some point, everyone starts to believe lies about themselves. Because the enemy wants to get us as far from God’s truth as possible, and what better way then to push doubt into our hearts about the very person we were created to be?
My first day of sixth grade, I remember being so worried about my outfit. It was so important to me, what I portrayed on the outside. No one sees inner beauty at first glance. I wanted to impress, to fit in, to belong. And I thought that looks and image determined that. I remember picking out the matching peach-colored Keds (or a knock-off version I’m sure) and rolled-up floral jean shorts with a matching t-shirt. I remember the way those new shoes smelled, the hope in that shoebox that I would be enough.
I remember my body changing, growing, stretching, hair popping up in all sorts of new places. It’s all so strange and weird, and it’s not like you go to school and talk to your friends about all the weird changes going on, you just endure it and go to school and try to act cool and normal. My dad is of Mexican decent, so my hair was extra dark. I had thick eyebrows, fuzzy sideburns, long, dark arm hair and even a slight mustache. I knew enough from my Seventeen magazines that pretty girls did not sport this over-growth of hair, so I did everything in my power to change it.
I’m sure my mom advised me on how to best manage my furry problems, but mostly I tried to figure it out myself. I tried plucking my brows with tweezers, and when that hurt like a you-know-what (even after trying the ice-cube numbing trick), I ended up just shaving them with a razor. Not ideal, but efficient.
The sideburns and arm hair were a bit trickier. Shaving your arms was not a thing people did (according to my peers and advice from beauty magazines), so I experimented with good-ole Nair hair remover. After applying that terrible smelling cream and enduring 30 straight minutes of what felt like a chemical burn, I was left with no hair but a terrible rash that looked even worse.
My back-up option was hair bleach. I mixed this cream with this salt-like stuff, endured yet another terrible smell, and voila! I was left with fuzzy, yellow arm hair that looked 100 percent not at all natural. I did this to my sideburns and mustache as well, until someone at my lunch table asked my why I had bleached my sideburns, which was even more embarrassing that my actual dark sideburns.
Then there was my actual hair, which I would curl and hairspray and cut my own layers into (and occasionally my own bangs) and spray with sun-in to get blonde highlights which always looked more orange than anything and I would hate wearing a pony-tail because of all my neck peach fuzz and of course my dreadful sideburns.
I always wanted a different nose too. Oh how I despised my nose. It was big and smushy and not at like Nikki Taylor or Candace Cameron or Shannon Daugherty’s nose (those were some of the prettiest, most famous teen celebrities when I was your age). My nose was more akin to Tori Spelling’s (an actress on my favorite tv show, Beverly Hills 90210) and everyone knows she eventually had a nose job to change that. That seemed extreme, but I figured I was open to anything to fix my blob of a facial feature.
What I’m saying, dear daughter, is that when I looked in the mirror in sixth grade, I did not like myself. I wanted to be anyone but myself. And looking back now, this breaks my heart. Because God made me perfectly and told me I was beautiful, and I used to believe him, but my 11-year-old self ignored him. Instead, I looked to the world to tell me who I was and how I should look and act. And the world told me I needed to be someone else. The world told me I wasn’t enough. God got smaller and smaller in my life, because why would I trust a Creator of someone as unimportant as me?!
The more you listen to the voices of the world instead of the voice of your Creator, the more you follow a path that wasn’t even meant for you in the first place. You are created with certain genes and traits that make you who you are; with gifts and dreams and talents and a beautiful mind that is ready to learn and grow and create. No one is like you in this whole, huge world. And there are billions and billions of people in it! And you are the only you there is! When I stop and think about how amazing that is, I loose my breath. So why, my sweet child, would you spend you life trying to be anyone but who you were created to be?
I know the pull of the world to tell you who you should be, dear daughter, because I was your age once. Although I didn’t have the troubling wilderness of the internet and YouTube and social media to view the world. Sure, there were fashion magazines and 90210 and Mickey Mouse Club (a singing and dancing show I swore I was going to be on one day). But the noise of the world is so, so much louder now. All day, you see images and ideas of what the world says you are supposed to be. And it all wants your attention, and every second of the day it is trying to drown out that still, small voice of God that tells you the truth about who you are.
Look up, child! Look at me! I created you just as you are. I love you just as you are. I gave you amazing gifts and purpose for life in this world. Do not be afraid and do not look to the world for direction. Look to me. I have made a way for you in the wilderness. You are unique. You are enough. You are my beloved creation.
Precious girl, I know you are worried and afraid and don’t know how to talk to me about it, or anyone else for that matter. Because the world doesn’t celebrate weak and scared people. But Jesus does. Jesus may like weak and scared people most of all. Because he came for the lost, for the scared and the lonely. Jesus sees weakness as a superpower of sorts…because when you feel weak is when you need him most. And it’s ok to need him, to need help. It doesn’t mean you are messed-up or less-than anyone else, it just means you are human. It means your are growing and changing. God gives his grace out freely, you only need to open up your hands to receive it. Grace is God saying…whatever you’ve done, it’s ok, I still love you. Let’s try again tomorrow.
So now that I’m 44 years-old, guess what? All my problems are solved! Hahaha I wish!!! Nope, I still have doubts about who I am, what I’m doing, and what I’ve done. I have fears and worries because I am human, and that’s normal. But, I also know Jesus now. I know how much I am loved and that I was created just as I should be. And when I listen to that truth, and not what the world says about me, it’s like all my doubts disappear, and I start to like myself again.
And guess what? I even love myself with all this hair! I’ve learned that I love getting my eyebrows waxed and shaped, and I even shave my arms (and my big toes!) and I’m not ashamed about it one bit! My hairdresser showed me how to thin my sideburns, and it works for me. I have a dermaplane tool for my mustache, and even found a laser hair machine that doesn’t hurt that bad. Yes, it’s kind of alot of hair management… but I’ve become an expert at it so don’t be ashamed if you ever have questions. Everyone in the world has body hair, not just you! And guess what? If one day I get tired of all the de-hairing, that’s ok too! Because I’m loved no matter what! You’re body never stops growing and changing, and it’s the only body you will ever have, so learning to love it and take care of it is pretty important! My body has done some amazing things for me, and I’m so thankful for it, hair and warts and blemishes and all!
Ok, all hairiness aside… my dear Allie, my only daughter, I know that growing up is hard. It’s all so strange and just plain awkward. I know this, because I was 11 once too. I didn’t want to change, and I didn’t know what to do with all the changes and all the doubts and all the comparing and striving. But please, know that we have all felt these things. We have all wondered if we are enough. I’m here to tell you… yes!!! Yes, you are more than enough. You are enough now and as your body (and all its hair) continues to change. You are enough even if you look different than so-and-so or like something no one else seems to. You are enough even if someone says something unkind or your friends don’t call you back that day or you don’t make the team or a boy breaks your heart or you fail the test or you forget to wear pants.
You. Are. ENOUGH!!!
Be careful when people try to label you or try to say you are this or that or belong in some group, because that’s only people trying to make themselves comfortable and try to assign you an identity. But like I’ve told you before, don’t feel like you have to wander through this life looking for a group to belong to, my love. Because you were created to be exactly who you are…Allison Grace Brian. You are a beloved child of God, and that’s all you ever need to be. There is no one else like you in the whole, big world. And I am so proud and grateful for that!
I’m sorry if all you ever hear from me is nagging you to brush your hair and teeth and pick up your room and do your homework and get off your iPad…that’s just a mom’s job, to help their children take care of themselves. That doesn’t mean you are less loved or not enough! Being a mom is hard too. I love you even when you don’t brush your teeth, but I also don’t want you to get cavities, so I have to remind you. Your dad and I also don’t want you to be the smelly kid, so you’re welcome. I often say nagging is like love in disguise, but it’s annoying, I know.
But do know this…I’m so lucky that God gave me you. I’m sorry if I don’t ever tell you that. I’m better at thinking things than saying them, I know you are too. Please know that I love you so much no matter what. And even though it’s hard to imagine, God loves you even more than me!
So when you feel lost, or afraid, or don’t like who you are, remember that lots of people feel this way. I still feel this way sometimes! We feel shame and guilt and embarrassment and it’s just so much sometimes it makes us want to crawl under the covers and go back to bed. We will never be perfect people. We are humans that make mistakes. We get pimples and eat too much candy and forget deodorant and put our shirts on inside-out sometimes. But it’s okay! God’s grace is sufficient and He is so, so good even when we are struggling. He is there to hear your prayers, your pain, your fears…and so am I!
Allie, you are so loved and you are never, ever alone. Although you like to be alone, haha! But you know what I mean. There are people who love you and are here for you, even when it seems like no one else is.
My wish for you, is that you will always sing…sing your heart out, daughter. Know your own voice. Speak out and speak over what is authentically inside YOU. Whether for an empty room or in front of a thousand people, share your voice. Believe in yourself, in your truth, in your calling. Sing the songs of your heart, listen to the dreams God put there. When you can’t hear them, go somewhere quiet and listen. You will find them again, I promise. Only you and God hold the key to this special hiding place.
Once you find your dreams, in the still, hidden place, ask God again for the courage to share them with the world. Because they are a gift, a light to your path. They may even light a path for others. Because doing the things you were created for is like a superpower; it helps other people find the courage to do the things they were made to do! I’m actually a little afraid of sharing this note with you and others who will read it, but I believe in the message enough to go for it! Everyone is a little afraid to share their dreams, but it feels so good when we are brave enough to try!
Sweet girl, I believe in you. God believes in you. I pray that you believe in you too! You are 100% home-gown, authentically YOU. You can roll your eyes at me all you want but it’s true. And well, yes…every beautiful little hair is a part of the package!
Love you!
Mom
Rerouting Life 