Dear Daughter: You Will Fail by Pastor Jill Richardson

As a followup to last year’s “Dear Mom” letters, this fall I’m sharing a series of “Dear Daughter” guest posts from a few of my dearest writing friends. Our first “Dear Daughter” letter comes from pastor Jill Richardson. Jill is also an author and the mother of three daughters,

Dear Daughter,

In two hours, we pack the van.

You are ready. I so am not.

It’s a borrowed van, because, you know what? Your whole life will not fit in a Prius. For the last eighteen years of that life, you’ve been here, aligning your toys just so along the wall, feeding bunnies named Katie and Starbucks, learning to play a viola, and learning to play your life.

Tentatively stepping out into new things, because you are my tentative child. You are the one who fears change, the one who like things the way you liked your toys—certain, ordered, and clear.

This new stepping out is four hours away, and I’m not sure I can drive it without tears in my line of vision. I know there are new adventures to find for both of us. I know God has a new chapter for me as well as for you, and I am ready for it.

Yet, there are last words to say and things I want you to know. I’m not going to take this space to lament the passing of time or the loss of a smile and someone who speaks simultaneously the same thought. Although, I will definitely miss your uncanny facial expressions that can always lighten any situation.

With all the “you can succeed at anything,” “you are awesome,” and “there are no limits to your adventure” talk kids get as they head into college, I want to add something you need to know.

Something I don’t think your generation hears much. So here, dear daughter, is what I want you to know as you begin this, indeed, limitless adventure.

You will fail.

When you took that Buzzfeed quiz about “What place in the family are you?” and you got “The Perfect One”? Please don’t believe that’s got to be you.

You will fail. You will make mistakes and have regrets. And you will disappoint yourself and others.

There will be tears. There will be days when you feel your entire identity is tied up in whether or not you get the grade, make the team, or impress the instructor/choir director/interviewer.

And you won’t.

Because part of this new adult thing you’re trying to get used to is that the cushion is gone and stuff happens that lands you on your butt. Hard. I’m not there to catch you, and the tough truth is, if I was, I should not, and I hope, would not. You never know with mommas.

Is this depressing advice on your first week of college when everything looks so rosy happy? I hope not. I hope it’s encouraging, really. See, I know somewhere, in the back of your excited, anticipating, expanding mind, there is fear.

I know it. I am your momma.

There is fear.

Fear that this is going to be harder than anything you’ve done before. Fear that you’re standing on a tiny outcrop of stone, and it’s a long, long way down if you misstep, and there is no net below. It’s all on you now. Scary.

So know now that it’s okay to take that misstep. You will fall. But it will not be the end. It will not be disaster. You will have the courage and the resourcefulness to learn from it and make other choices, and new mistakes, next time. You will stand taller after you fall, not smaller. And you will have looked fear in the eye and defeated it.

We will still love you. Your community will still love you. Your roommate will still love you. (Just don’t wipe her computer like you did your sister’s. That may tax her love a bit.)

You will still be of infinite value, because your value depends on things other than your output, GPA, or face in the mirror. Eternal things. Things that don’t change like the day’s classes.

You will fail. But it will not define you.

Falling will not be the end. It will be the beginning of discovering for yourself that you have wings. And God is holding you up on his wings.

So fly, kid.

Pastor Jill Richardson

Jill Richardson is a writer, speaker, pastor, mom, wife–all on a big, messy adventure of whatever God says comes next. She is a chocolate marzipan and Earl Grey lover, author of five books, Cubs fan, and sort-of empty nester, who writes about grace, courage, and freedom at Brave: Taking on the Life you were Meant to Live. You can follow Jill on Facebook or Twitter.