Dear Child, my little one, come here. You are young, Child. You are made of strawberry-blonde hair and dresses with frilly edges, of bright eyes and tiny fingers that grab for the adventure your heart longs for. Dandelions and grass-stained knees, calluses from the monkey bars, staring at the ground when strangers want to speak with you, fingertips soaked with dusty pages and old ink. You drop books in the bathtub and never forget to make your bed. You are young, Child. You are unlike me, me who has a few more wrinkles and scars than you. But still, you are more precious than you could know. Child, you are stardust.

I know you can be sad. I know, Child, that you don’t like to show it because others have it worse. I know you feel guilty for being sad because it makes those around you sad. But Child, I know it makes you sad when your mom and dad fight. You are sad when someone is in pain. You are sad when an animal is mistreated. I know you are sad when you don’t understand how social situations work, when you can’t quite fit in, when you are left on the outside. One of the worst types of sad is when you let someone down, when you didn’t quite do good enough. Come, Child, let the Father hold you. Let Him take that sad away.

I am sorry to tell you this, Child, but things will get harder. You will become tired, Child, my dear one. So tired, so scared. You had to grow up one day, something you always knew but never quite understood. That’s alright. Not understanding is a part of life, and when the words in your head become muffled then you must ask the Father if not for help, then at least for peace. Peace is sometimes hard to find, Child. Understand that. Find peace in the Father, my little one.

You are young, Child. You do not fear mirrors yet, you do not understand the weight of the heavy. That’s alright, too. You are still young, dear one, and you can leave growing up for another day. Find peace in the Father. You are strong, too, which is something else you will not understand until the time comes. Just remember you will outlast the riptides, for He will throw you a life jacket. So pick yourself off the ground, leave the scrapes on your palms, leave the tangles in your wind-blown hair. You are strong, you are stardust, you are His Child.




4 thoughts on “Child

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  1. I absolutely adore this! It really pulled on my heart strings, and really pulled me into it. I relate to this so incredibly much, painfully so, and I adore this. That’s all I can say; I’m speechless! Please, keep writing, my love.


  2. I remember wanting to grow up more than anything else, wanting to grow up quickly, and now I wish I could slip on my childhood again sometimes and wear it around like comfy pajamas. I wish I could write letters and post them and have my younger self read them and learn.

    Thank you for writing this.


    1. That’s an excellent explanation, lovely one. I need to dig those pyjamas out from underneath my bed, I think. Thank you for reading, as always.


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