Raspberry Iced M

I am not sure if I have mentioned this, but my 19 year old daughter just had her first child.

A son.

Who I adore.

Interestingly enough, my grandfather became a dad to my mom at 19. My mom became my mom at 19. I became a mom at 19. And my daughter became a mom at 19.

I am not saying that’s something we should take pride in…

…just an interesting pattern I’ve noticed.

And in noticing how my daughter interacts with her son sort of takes me back to being that age.

I thought I had the world figured out.

When I consider the person I was at 20 and the person I am at almost 40, I have realized that we have the same DNA. The same name. Some of the same personality.

But if 20 year old me appeared in my living room and spent 24 hours observing my current life, I’m pretty sure she’d pull me aside and ask, “Are we okay?“

Yeah, Girl. We’re fine.

We’re just tired now.

1. I voluntarily stay home now. Young Me wanted to know where we were going. Now Me wants to know why we have to go anywhere. There are people out there. And traffic. And pants with buttons. I have everything I need…right here, thankyouverymuch. My couch. My husband. My son. My dogs. My books. My t.v. My snacks. And most importantly, no requirement to discuss the weather with near strangers. Young Me would call this boring. Now Me calls it Saturday.
2. I get excited about not spending money. Young Me would have considered extra money an emergency requiring immediate attention. Money sitting peacefully in a bank account, doing nothing? What a waste. Now Me can pay something off, transfer money to savings, or make it through an entire day without ordering something online and actually experience a dopamine hit. Sometimes I put a bunch of stuff in my online cart and think, “I could buy that.” And then I don’t. Young Me would like to report Now Me missing.
3. I have a whole book dedicated to planning my life. Not an appointment book. Not a calendar. A bullet journal. Themes, trackers, goals, Bible verses, doodles, lists, reflections, habits. Apparently I have reached an age where drawing tiny vegetables in a notebook while contemplating personal stewardship became recreational. Young Me would want to go out. Now Me can’t, because she needs to finish coloring her self care tracker.
4. I read the Bible because I want to. Not because someone assigned it. Not because I’m sitting in church. Not because I know I am “supposed to.” But because I genuinely want to know what it says. I will voluntarily sit down and read several chapters about ancient Judah and then spend an unreasonable amount of time pondering how it applies to my life. Young Me would probably be shocked by how important my faith has become. But I think she’d also be a little relieved.
5. I go to therapy and I tell the truth. This one might confuse Young Me more than anything. I voluntarily pay someone to ask me questions I once would’ve spent considerable energy avoiding. And then…I answer them. Honestly. Sometimes I even reflect on the questions afterwards. ON PURPOSE. Young Me had a much more sophisticated technique – suppress it until it becomes someone else’s problem. But…as it turns out…that was not ideal.
6. I get genuinely excited about a clean house. There is nothing quite like walking into the living room when everything is where it belongs. Counters cleared. Floors mopped. Laundry folded. Candle lit. Blankets folded. Dogs sleeping and temporarily not destroying anything. And I will admire it. Young Me cleaned out of obligation but never as a hobby. Young Me would ask, “What are we doing tonight?” THIS. We’re going to sit in this clean room and not mess it up. This is entertainment now.
7. I sometimes let people be wrong about me. Young Me wouldn’t get this at all. Someone misunderstands us? CALL THEM. Someone said something inaccurate? CORRECT IT. Someone has the wrong impression? PREPARE THE DEFENSE. Gather witnesses. Submit Exhibits A through Q. But Now Me is learning something that would’ve sounded impossible back then. Sometimes people can be wrong about me…and I can go make a sandwich. Not every accusation requires litigation. Not every misunderstanding requires clarification. Not every opinion deserves access to my nervous system. And that took two decades to learn.
8. I actually like quiet. Young Me needed stimulation. People, plans, noise. Now Me can sit in my living room with absolutely nothing happening and think, “This is amazing.” No television. No conversation. No phone call. Just coffee, a notebook, and my own thoughts. There was a time when quiet made me uncomfortable because my own thoughts made me uncomfortable. Now I can sit with them. They aren’t always pleasant. But I don’t run from them anymore. Young Me wouldn’t understand that yet.
9. I think before I speak. Before I send the text. Before I issue some scathing retort. Before I ruin my own day by ruining someone else’s. Granted, we are calling this progress, not perfection. There are messages I type…and then delete. Things I decide don’t need to be said. Conversations I’ll wait to have until tomorrow. Moments I ask myself what outcome I’m actually trying to create. Young Me operated under a much simpler philosophy – I feel something and everyone needs to know immediately. Now Me has discovered the miraculous, therapeutic intervention known as…go to bed. It’s remarkably effective.
10. I want a peaceful life more than an exciting one. And this might be the biggest difference between the two Mes. Young Me could think of nothing worse than boredom. I wanted intensity. Adventure. Big feelings. Big experiences. And sometimes that meant that I mistook chaos for passion simply because both made me feel alive. Now Me wants ordinary. Give me Sunday lunch. Coffee in my living room. A healthy marriage. Music with my son. A text from my daughter. A notebook full of plans. Prayers on the couch. A giggle in the kitchen. Give me a life that doesn’t require recovery. Boring has become beautiful.

I think Young Me would be confused my Now Me. She might even be disappointed in how boring our life is.

But eventually, I think Young Me would notice that I’m quieter now because I’m more careful – not because I have less to say.

I think she’d be surprised by how much I care about integrity, peace, and becoming someone I respect…even if no one else does.

There are things I wish I could go back and teach her. And maybe she had to become Now Me the long way. Through mistakes, heartbreak, consequences, love, loss, motherhood, marriage, therapy, grace…and about 847 notebooks.

So, yes, Young Me. We stay home now. We read Ephesians recreationally. We choose not to argue. And sometimes the highlight of our evening is a clean living room and having nowhere to be.

I know you don’t understand.

But give yourself twenty years.

You will.