“Little girl, little girl, don’t grow up too fast. Before you know it, you’ll be wishing you could just go back. Don’t you know there’ll be plenty of time for that somewhere down the road? Yeah, it’s all gonna fly in the blink of an eye. You can’t slow down this thing called life. So take your time and let it last, Little girl don’t grow up too fast.”

I feel like everyone has, at one point or another, had that one teacher in school that just wanted to make it a point to really hammer home the lesson of “taking your time and following the directions.” I mean, I know that’s a pretty basic discipline that I’m sure most teachers try their best to convey to their students, but I feel like there’s always that one, that takes it a step further to really make a point.

It was just a normal day in the seventh grade. I went to my history class like I did every day; completely unprepared and hoping that I could just skim the chapter that I was supposed to read the night before and bull***t my way through the rest class on the general gist of whatever I had read in the 10 minutes previous to when my class actually started. Not really a recipe for success, but my Jr. High self seemed to think it was a good idea at the time.

Suffice it to say that no one ever accused me of taking school too seriously. I got to my class, chatted with my friends before the bell rang and proceeded to take my assigned seat in the very front and center of the classroom, which I can only assume was a pretty intentional move on my teachers part. I was never a huge fan of history at the time, so this class didn’t really appeal to me in anyway.

Class started, I opened my book and almost immediately was off in my own head, failing to listen to anything my teacher was talking about. He wasn’t one to ever give a quiz or a test without warning, so when I when I saw him set a stapled packet of paper face down in front on me, I immediately panicked. To be honest, it wasn’t unusual for me to be unprepared for a test that I knew full well was happening. You’d think that panicked feeling that I got, (without fail, every single time) would have taught me to maybe just take the time to study the night before, but it never did.

As he continued to pass the tests out to the rest my class, STILL, instead of listening, I went straight from thinking about what I can only imagine was something to do with the particularly cute boy that sat directly behind me, to focusing on the fear of having to answer questions that I was certain I didn’t have any of the answers too. I finally tuned in just in time to hear my teacher emphasizing to “read the directions carefully.”

In true Emilee fashion, I did…not. I quickly flipped over my test, and proceeded to skip directly over the instructions and started in. The deeper I got into this test, I realized that something wasn’t adding up. Some of the questions were worded in a way that was far beyond the comprehension of a seventh grader, and some of them had nothing to do with history at all, and still, I was so focused on how to just get by, that I didn’t take a second to just stop and look up.

I kept my head down to at least appear like I knew what I was doing, even though that couldn’t have been further from the truth. I got more and more anxious thinking about having to have yet another, “So what happened?” conversion with my parents after receiving back what I could almost guarantee would be a failing grade based on the fact that I had only legitimately answered one question. TOTAL.

After a while, I started to hear a collective group of snickers coming from different parts of the classroom, and when I finally looked up to see what was going on, everyone except for me and a handful of people, were just sitting with their arms crossed.

Long story longer, unbeknownst to me (and also the particularly cute boy sitting directly behind me), the directions clearly stated that the test was just a joke and to simply put your pencil down and wait quietly. Seventh graders can only sit quietly for a short period of time, hence the snickering taking place around the room. Although it was a humorous (and slightly embarrassing) lesson, it was something that I never forgot. Little did I know how applicable it would still be almost 15 years later.

I’m not, and have never been someone who likes to live my day to day life at a rushed pace. I like to take my time, savor and enjoy moments and kind of just float from place to place. I am this way in almost every area of my life except in the area where I probably should be most. Whether it was wanting to be older than I was, taller than I was,  impulsively taking on things way before I was ready, I was always looking 10 steps ahead of where I actually was, because I had this notion that everything was better down the road.

As a little girl, I was always playing dress up with my moms clothes because I wanted to be just like her. I used to fight her constantly on wearing the clothes she would pick out for me. The practical, comfortable clothes that allowed me to run and play. I wanted to pick out my own clothes. I wanted to decide for myself what I was going to wear, and if I had it my way, it would have been a princess dress, high heels and my pink lipstick from my favorite starter makeup kit that my grandpa got me, every day.

Don’t get me wrong, she let me do it sometimes, but only when it was it was the right time for it. Playing at home or going to a tea party at a friends house, sure, but going to the grocery store, probably not. She knew that about 5 minutes in, I would be complaining that my dress was too itchy, that my crown wouldn’t stay on my head and my little plastic dress up heels would be too hard to walk in.

She knew that ahead of me, lied years of enduring pain due to walking around in heels all day. She knew that there would be plenty of hours way down the road, of complaining about dresses that are too uncomfortable. (5 year old me thought the biggest problem a girl could face with a dress was that it was too itchy or that it wasn’t sparkly enough. It would be years before I would come to understand the struggle of trying to breathe in a dress.)

I would get so angry with my mom when she would tell me no. I was too young and didn’t have the perspective to even remotely understand that she was right. This carried on through every stage of growing up. Whether it was wanting to wear makeup way before I was old enough, go on a roller coaster before I was tall enough, stay at home by myself before I was responsible enough, I was always in such a hurry to be anywhere other than I was. I wanted to rush through everything just so I could get back to doing whatever it was that I wanted to be doing.

Instead of studying, I would rush through my homework. Because I wasn’t putting in the work in the first place, I wasn’t actually retaining anything, so I would fail tests and I would end up having to work with my teachers over recess instead of being able to play with my friends. It took me a long time to realize I was making things so much harder on myself by not just slowing down, listening to direction and taking the time to do it the right way in the first place.  

Today, those are just distant memories. It seems like such a long time ago. What’s funny is that now, at 25, I may be older, but I still look in the mirror and see glimpses of that little girl in the princess dress. I see her in decisions I make now. Decisions that have led me to the very moment of writing this. This has been one of the more interesting phases of my life. I have friends that are the exact same age as me, that are married and starting families. I also have friends that are the exact same age as me, that are still struggling to figure it out. I find myself somewhere in the middle.

I wanted to grow up so quickly, so badly, that I rushed the process. I thought I cheated the system. I thought that I could sidestep some of the incredibly essential life lessons and I am finding more and more just how wrong I was. Just as much as that 5 year old who wanted to live in a princess dress was no match for my mom, this 25 year old who wants to live her own life is certainly no match for my God.

The thing about serving a God that is so wildly boundless, is that we have to acknowledge that without Him, we can’t be. There is truly no freedom in living life with no direction(s). We will never be anything even remotely close to what we can be, when we summit to the will of God.

Although I understand this and truly believe this with all of my heart, adhering to this is something I really struggle with. Waiting on God and trusting His timing is incredibly difficult for me, especially when I’m surrounded by people who have so many of the things that I want for myself. It’s easy to think that we can just go out and get whatever sounds good in that moment, and in a lot of ways, in our day in age, that’s true.

However what happens when what we’re seeking isn’t necessarily what’s good for us? When we take something that maybe wasn’t ours to have in the first place? When we think we’ve found the things that will finally bring satisfaction to the missing pieces of our hearts but really we’ve just created a life filled with things and people, and it’s still not enough. I use this example because as I was dealing with hurt and grief, I literally did this.

My heart was breaking and I began to fill my heart and my home with everything I could find. Before I knew it, I was surrounded with a life that had everything I could have ever wanted or needed and I still felt like something was missing. I started to feel like I was living an unfamiliar home; I knew it was mine but I didn’t recognize anything in it.

God never fails to get my attention. Lately, it’s been reminding me that that little girl is still in my heart. The difference between her and the girl standing here 20 years later, is that even though that little girl didn’t like being told no, she obeyed. She obeyed for no other reason than she didn’t know not being obedient was even an option. She trusted her mom because even though she made her mad, she couldn’t help but feel the undeniable love she had for her. She didn’t know how to hold onto anger so she was able to listen to what she was being told. She wasn’t always able to understand, but she listened.

It’s not often that you hear someone say that they aspire to be the child version of themselves, but in a lot ways I do. I was able to obey without fear. I was able to listen with an open heart. I hadn’t known what it was to truly worry, because my parents always kept me safe. Being an adult is really, freaking hard sometimes.

In all the moments I’ve prayed that God would change certain aspects of my life, and I’ve gotten angry and impatient when things remained the same or when I’ve prayed that God would just leave my life alone and He’s completely turned my world upside down, there’s always been a reason. Love. A completely reckless, completely unabashed and completely condition free love.

I was feeling pretty lost the other day and I asked God to simply remind me who I am. As I sat in the silence, there were no words, but He simply brought the picture of that little girl playing dress up to my mind. I saw the little girl who didn’t need validation from anyone to believe she was the most beautiful girl in the world. I saw the little girl who experienced such a pure joy to be exactly where she was. I saw the little girl that wasn’t afraid of what anyone thought because she didn’t understand judgement herself. I saw the little girl whose only expectation in life was to just be herself.

 I truly believe God calls us to have the faith of a child for a reason. It’s crazy how we become so disconnected from those pure, innocent little people we once were.

My prayer for this season is that God would remind not only me, but all the women struggling with finding their purpose and fulfillment that there is hope. There is always hope. I have felt like there has been a huge attack on the hearts of women lately. I know I personally have been struggling through a lot and I know I have felt alone for a lot of that.

That’s what Satan wants. He wants isolation and he want us to believe that we will never be enough despite our best efforts. He wants us to believe that we need to strive in order to be valued or deemed worthy. For my life personally, I have had enough. I am done feeling like I’m not good enough, like my life will never amount to anything, like my sins and my struggles define who I am.

I believe, with all of my heart, that God is going to raise up a generation of fiercely faithful and fiercely bold women. Women who like myself, have made countless mistakes, fallen short countless times, felt like we weren’t beautiful enough, smart enough, good enough, capable enough, worthy enough. I refuse to continue living under that lie and I just want all you ladies who are struggling with those very same things to know, I am praying.

I am praying that God brings freedom from the constant expectations. Freedom from the lies that some of us have believed for years. Freedom from the chains that sometimes we’ve built ourselves and therefore think we’re not deserving of being set free from. I am praying that God would remind each of us, everyday, who we are. That we wouldn’t be afraid to be women of God and children of faith all at the same time.

Thank you to all the women who have come along side me recently and encouraged me when I desperately needed it. My heart is that even if it’s for just one person, that I would be able to offer the same encouragement and grace to someone that was extended to me . You are not alone in this and God is still good!! ❤