This is our masterpiece.

Note: I encourage letter writers to not post anonymously, but I understand that sometimes that is not possible. After talking with this individual, it was decided that this was one of those times. Therefore, the letter is signed "Me" instead of with a name.

Dear You,

I was seventeen when my dad yelled at me for eating a sandwich. Coming down the stairs he said, “Do you know how many carbs are in bread? You don’t need more of those.” I fought back and he called me a brat, an ungrateful little bitch. We fought for almost an hour. We were about to go to a football game, and I told him I didn’t want to go with him anymore. His response was, “It’s not a big deal- stop being such a drama queen.”

That’s exactly what abuse does. It slaps your soul, branding it with pain and then pours salt over it by saying you have no right to be hurt. You deserve everything that has happened to you. But friend, sometimes you don’t deserve it. Sometimes things happen to you that are not your fault. Abuse shames us into silence by saying we were supposed to be stronger, supposed to be smarter, supposed to be braver or better. Abuse says we got what we deserved.

Friend, you will meet people in your life who will tell you that you deserve the abuse they give you. They will tell you that you are unworthy, undeserving, and the way they treat you is your fault. That is not true.

You do not deserve cruelty.

You deserve tenderness and grace and freedom.

Love is supposed to set you free- if you are not free, it is not love.

My dad has never hit me, but verbal abuse finds its way into your soul and buries itself there in ways that most people underestimate. Friend, don’t stay silent. Start talking about it, and no matter what people tell you, don’t stop until someone hears you. You deserve to be heard.

And I will be here, banging my pots and pans with you, making a cacophony that will not be easily ignored.

This is our orchestra.

This is our masterpiece.

Learning and living with you,

Me

It's okay that you're not ready.

Dear You,

I’m writing to tell you that it’s okay.  It’s okay that you’re not ready.

“Not ready for what?” you ask, as you tilt your head and pretend to not know what I’m talking about.

Here’s the thing – I know you.  And I know that the questions behind your eyes are so much deeper than, “Not ready for what?”  Oh no, there are a million more questions in those eyes – those eyes that have lost a little bit of their sparkle recently, those eyes that are a window into the heart that’s recently lost a little bit of its surety and fire.

I know there are things you aren’t sure about yet.  Things you don’t understand.  Things you’re not ready to be okay about.

And that’s okay.

Oh, and just in case you thought I was going to spare you that final kick-in-the heart (you know, the one that’s for your own good?) --- I’m not.  So here goes:

It’s okay that you don’t want what they want.

It’s okay that you weren’t ready for that.

I see you over there in the corner, beating yourself up over the fact that you weren’t ready – that you wanted something else.

Stop.

I see you in your car, driving to your own blessings, questioning if all of this is what you’re supposed to be doing, and if you’re where you’re supposed to be.

You are.

I see you living your life, doing what you love, wondering if you should feel guilty for being fulfilled by things that don’t fit the mold you’ve been trying to squeeze yourself into for so long.

You shouldn’t.  Because you don’t fit there.  That mold – it’s not meant for you.  And that’s okay.

Really.

So here’s to not being ready – you and me. I promise you that one day you will be. And it will be its own kind of beautiful.  But for now – you not being ready is beautiful, too.  You just have to see it.

Learning and living with you,

Sydney

Your words have power.

Dear You,

Your words have power.

They speak. They move. They create. They inspire.

Your words have power.

Past experiences may cause you to think otherwise, but that doesn’t change the truth.

You’ve been told you shouldn’t speak. You’ve been told to be quiet. You’ve allowed other people’s views of you to sew your mouth shut. And you’ve allowed your view of yourself to sew your mouth shut tighter.

You’ve kept your mouth shut for a while. You’ve listened to the lies. The lies that tell you that your words are weak, that they don’t matter. The lies that say people are better off not hearing your words, that they don’t need to hear your thoughts and feelings.

You think your thoughts can’t possibly be powerful.

You believe that your words don’t hold weight.

Friend, I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong. I’m here to tell you that every syllable and beat that escapes your mouth has value and meaning. Every word, every sentence, comes out of the empowered person you are, thus making your words powerful.

Your words aren’t feathers that easily float away with a breeze. They are bricks that are not easily moved. They are strong.

Your words are roots. They seep into hearts and situations in marvelous ways.

Your words come from the core of who you are and enter the outside world. 
And it’s a glorious sight.

Your words are not an inconvenience, as much as you think they are. Get rid of every lie in your head that tells you that others are worse off when you speak, because your words are worth way more than you give them credit for.

You are in this world. You are here. And your words are used to help mend and influence the lives that are around you. Your words touch the lives of others. Your words come from the pit of your heart, the part of you that makes you you.

There have been times where you have made statements that you hope and pray people catch because they’re important to you, but instead they brush them off and don’t give them a second thought.

Don’t allow that to stop you, friend.

You are deep and life-filled and even those short statements you make have depth and meaning.

I’m here to catch those statements you’ve said that others haven’t given a second thought.

I’m holding them tightly, looking at you, and thanking you for sharing part of yourself with me and the world.

I’m grasping them, telling you to never let others keep you from sharing the words that come from inside you.

Speak. Speak proudly.

I’m here to tell you that your words make a difference.

I’m here to tell you that your words are nothing to be ashamed of. They are nothing to be ashamed of because they are a part of you. And there is nothing, absolutely nothing, shameful about you.

Your words have power.

Allow yourself to stand firm in the words you say as much as I do.

Be proud. Be strengthened.

And never stop speaking.

Learning and living with you,

Sarah

The Editor