The other day, I found myself thinking about a little girl I used to know.
She had big dreams.
She laughed loudly.
She collected ideas the way some people collect seashells.
She believed she could become almost anything.
She loved deeply.
She cried easily.
She was curious about everything.
She had no idea what life would ask of her.
No idea how much she would one day carry.
No idea how many people would eventually depend on her.
No idea that one day she would become so busy taking care of everyone else…
that she would forget to take care of herself.
I miss her sometimes.
Not because I want to go backward.
And not because I believe life was easier then.
I miss her because she knew things that I forgot.
She knew how to play.
She knew how to rest.
She knew how to wonder.
She knew how to dream without immediately listing all the reasons something wouldn't work.
She knew how to laugh without guilt.
She knew how to simply be.
And every now and then, I wonder…
what happened to her?
Maybe you wonder that too.
Maybe there are moments when you catch your reflection in the mirror and think:
"When did I become this serious?"
"When did I become so tired?"
"When did my entire life become responsibilities?"
"When was the last time I did something simply because it brought me joy?"
Or perhaps the question underneath all those questions is this:
Who was I…
before everyone needed something from me?
Before the children.
Before the marriage.
Before the caregiving.
Before the responsibilities.
Before the heartbreak.
Who was she?
Can you still see her?
I think she's still there.
I think she has been waiting very patiently.
Waiting beneath the grocery lists.
Waiting beneath the calendars.
Waiting beneath the doctor's appointments and laundry and obligations.
Waiting beneath the woman who became useful to everyone else.
Waiting for you to remember her name.
The Little Girl With Dreams
I wonder who you were.
Not the woman sitting here today.
The little girl.
The one before life became complicated.
What made her laugh until her stomach hurt?
What made her eyes light up?
What did she dream about when she couldn't sleep at night?
Did she write stories?
Did she draw pictures?
Did she dance in the living room?
Did she sing into a hairbrush?
Did she dream of seeing the world?
Did she imagine owning a flower shop?
Opening a bookstore?
Living by the ocean?
Teaching?
Painting?
Creating?
What made her feel alive?
I think healing often begins by asking ourselves questions we've stopped asking.
Because somewhere along the way, many of us stopped wondering what we wanted.
The questions changed.
What do the kids need?
What does my husband need?
What does work need?
What does my family need?
What does everyone else need?
And eventually…
nobody asks:
What does my soul need?
Not even us.
Becoming Useful
I think one of the quiet tragedies of womanhood is not that we become busy.
It's that we become useful.
Wonderfully useful.
Dependable.
Reliable.
Needed.
People count on us.
They call us first.
They trust us.
They need us.
And little by little, our usefulness becomes our identity.
Some of us became so busy being needed…
that we forgot we were people too.
Some of us became so busy caring for everyone else…
that we stopped caring for ourselves.
Some of us became so busy surviving…
that we forgot what made us come alive.
I don't think most women lose themselves.
I think they slowly abandon pieces of themselves to keep everyone else comfortable.
One dream at a time.
One desire at a time.
One boundary at a time.
One "I'll do it later" at a time.
Until one day they look around and think:
I know exactly who everyone needs me to be.
But I don't know who I am.
Friend…
the woman you miss isn't gone.
She's simply been waiting for you to remember her.
What If We've Forgotten Ourselves, Too?
There is a verse in Revelation that has always made me pause.
Jesus says:
"But I have this against you: You have abandoned the love you had at first."
— Revelation 2:4
For years, I read those words and thought only about my relationship with God.
But recently, I wondered something else.
What if some of us have also abandoned the woman He created us to be?
Not intentionally.
Not because we didn't care.
But because life became heavy.
Responsibilities multiplied.
People needed us.
And we slowly drifted away from ourselves.
I wonder how many women are grieving pieces of themselves without even realizing it.
The dream they put on the shelf.
The joy they postponed.
The creativity they silenced.
The adventure they never took.
The rest they never allowed themselves to have.
What part of yourself have you been missing?
What dream have you been quietly grieving?
What did you once love?
Tea at Today's Table
This week I'm drinking a tea that reminds me of childhood.
The kind of tea that feels familiar.
Comforting.
The kind that brings back memories.
Because I think healing sometimes looks like remembering.
Not who the world made us become.
But who God knew we were all along.
Maybe today isn't about becoming someone new.
Maybe it's about remembering someone old.
Return Practice
Take your tea.
Close your eyes.
Place one hand over your heart.
Take a slow breath in.
And another.
Now ask yourself this question:
If nobody needed anything from me this week… what would I want?
Don't rush your answer.
Let it find you.
Because that question alone may uncover pieces of yourself you've been missing for years.
From My Journal
I used to think I needed to find myself.
Now I wonder if I've simply needed to remember myself.
To remember the woman who dreamed.
The woman who laughed.
The woman who felt deeply.
The woman who believed there was still time.
Perhaps she never disappeared.
Perhaps she simply got buried beneath years of responsibilities.
And buried things…
can still bloom.
A Moment at The Table
Friend…
you are more than your responsibilities.
You are more than your usefulness.
You are more than what you provide for everyone else.
There is still a woman inside of you who dreams.
Who hopes.
Who laughs.
Who wonders.
Who wants.
And she matters too.
Maybe this week, your assignment isn't to do more.
Maybe it's simply to remember.
To remember what brought you joy.
To remember what made you come alive.
To remember the woman God lovingly created before life became so heavy.
Ask yourself:
-
What did I love before life became so busy?
-
What dream have I quietly put on the shelf?
-
What part of myself have I been grieving without realizing it?
-
If no one needed anything from me this week, what would I want?
My Prayer for you
Father,
Some of us have spent so many years being everything for everyone else that we no longer remember ourselves.
Would You gently remind us?
Would You show us the dreams we buried?
The joy we set aside?
The pieces of ourselves we thought were lost?
Help us remember that we are more than our responsibilities.
Help us return.
Amen.
Thank you for sitting at The Table with me today.
Next Sunday, I want to talk about something I think many women struggle with:
When Your Identity Becomes Your To-Do List.
Why do we feel guilty for slowing down?
Why do we believe our worth is tied to productivity?
And how do we learn to rest?
I hope you'll pull up a chair and join me.
Until then…
take a deep breath.
Look through old photographs.
Listen to a song you loved as a girl.
Do something that makes your soul smile.
And remember this:
The woman you miss isn't gone.
She's simply been waiting for you to remember her.
🌿 Continue the Journey
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Whether it's through a warm cup of tea, a quiet Sunday conversation, or a simple moment of reflection, there's always a place for you here.
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