Met My Younger Self for Coffee

I wrote most of this about a year ago, when the “I Met My Younger Self for Coffee” trend was everywhere. But this year has been full of people remembering 2016, and reflecting on it made me realize just how pivotal 2016 was for me.

2016 was the first time I stepped into a formal leadership role. It was the first time I taught. It changed my life and helped me begin to understand what God was calling me to do. It was the year I took the first steps into becoming the person I am today. And I think she would be really proud.

But it was also the year I lost myself a little bit.

I was buried in schoolwork and didn’t protect my relationships well. I had an abundance of head knowledge about God, but in the middle of the academic world, I lost some of the heart connection to Him.

So this is 2026 Emily getting coffee with 2016 Emily.

Today I Met My Younger Self for Coffee

We were both early.

She texted to say she was there, then waited in the car until I told her I had a table inside.

She got an iced vanilla latte with an extra shot or two.
I got an iced vanilla latte, decaf.

She wore jeans and a flowy top, her hair clipped half up, with plum lipstick.
I wore jeans and the same top, my hair down, with earrings I made.

She talked animatedly about her friends, and I told her about the ones who now feel more like family.

She told me about the message she was giving that summer at camp.
I told her about being on the teaching team at youth.

She complimented my tan.
I told her about my tiny pool and my garden.

She said she thought she’d be able to do a headstand any day now.
I told her we have the same goal again this year.

She told me about all the pranks she pulled at camp.
I told her about the ones I pull in my office.

She told me she feels called to teach and lead, but she goes to class every day with professors and classmates who don’t think she’s allowed to do that.

I told her about leading youth ministry, about the students who changed her faith, and how her church values her and supports her calling.

She told me how excited she was to read for fun again.
I told her about my library card and sharing books with my best friend.

She told me she stopped writing because with all her papers, it just feels like more work.

I told her I self-published a prayer journal and put my words into the world almost every day.

She told me she was hoping her guy friend would finally tell her he liked her.
I told her he’s married now, and I’m glad it’s not to me.

She told me she might move away.

I told her about the students I’ve led for over six years, the dog who will save her, and the life I built in the city she thought she would leave.

She showed me pictures from her last trip and told me about the one she was scheming next.

I told her about the trip I’m planning—because some things will never change.

I hope we get coffee again soon.

Because ten years later, here’s what I wish she knew…

I wish she knew, she doesn’t have to rush becoming who she’s meant to be. The questions, the doubts, the long nights of studying, the moments of feeling unseen; they were all shaping something powerful.

I would tell her to not stop trusting the quiet things God has put in her heart. Her desire to teach, to lead, to write, to build something meaningful for other women, none of that was accidental. 

The life she’s building isn’t behind schedule. It’s unfolding exactly the way it needs to. One day she’ll look around and realize the calling she’s fighting so hard to prove was there all along.

It will take years to see the full picture, but the seeds she’s planting now will grow into a life she once only imagined. I would tell her to stop trying to run, but to put down roots and let them grow so deep. Because in staying she would learn more than she could imagine, and it would heal the part of her that thought she needed to go.

The funny thing about meeting your younger self is realizing she was never as lost as she thought she was. She was just at the beginning. 

Every dream, every doubt, every small act of courage was quietly building a life I absolutely love. If we met again in ten years, I hope she’d recognize that we’re still becoming; still growing, still trusting God, still learning how to live this life wholeheartedly.