The Girl In The Mirror

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.” — Jeremiah 1:5

Last night, in the most ordinary moment — cleanser, moisturizer, tired eyes, bathroom light that tells the truth — I looked up and saw her.

For a split second, it wasn’t me at 48 staring back.

It was her.

The teenage version.

And it startled me.

Because if I’m honest, my teenage years are not something I would relive. Not even with the wisdom I have now. I was trying to fit in. Trying to be chosen. Trying to be enough. I wore different identities depending on who I was standing next to.

When I blinked, she was gone.

There I was again. Present-day me. Lines earned. Confidence forged. Strength that doesn’t apologize anymore.

But that image stayed with me.

So I went to bed and asked the Lord, “Why did You show me her?”

And what He revealed wasn’t shame.

It was purity.

I have spent years critiquing that girl. Replaying her insecurity. Cringing at her decisions. Judging her softness. Treating her like she was a mistake.

But Jesus doesn’t create mistakes.

Even in the awkwardness.

Even in the insecurity.

Even in the trying-too-hard seasons.

That girl wasn’t broken.

She was in the making.

She loved hard — that’s why she hurt hard.

She cared deeply — that’s why rejection cut deep.

She wanted people to feel joy — that’s why she bent herself trying to create it.

None of that was weakness. It was wiring.

Somewhere along the way, the enemy distorted those gifts because my identity wasn’t rooted in Christ yet. When we don’t know who we are, it’s easy to let someone else define us.

But none of those teenage traits were abnormal. They were human. They were seeds.

And here’s the beautiful part:

That girl built this woman.

The resilience.

The focus.

The passion.

The gratitude.

The refusal to quit.

They didn’t suddenly appear at 48. They were forming in a 16-year-old who didn’t even know she was strong yet.

Maybe you’ve been at war with your younger self too.

The middle school you.

The college you.

The version who stayed too long.

Loved the wrong person.

Spoke too loud.

Stayed too quiet.

What if she wasn’t your embarrassment?

What if she was your foundation?

The mirror is powerful because it doesn’t just show who you are — it reflects what you believe.

If you look long enough, you’ll either see flaws or you’ll see formation.

The mirror can be an accusation.

Or it can be a testimony.

Tonight, if you catch a glimpse of a younger version of yourself staring back at you, don’t turn away.

Thank her.

She survived what you now have strength because of.

She dreamed before you knew how to anchor it in faith.

She hoped before you knew how to ground it in truth.

God knew her.

He wasn’t surprised by her.

He wasn’t disappointed in her.

He was forming you.

And when you look in the mirror now, don’t just see who you are.

See who He has carried all along.

My Prayer:

Lord,

Thank You for every version of me. The awkward one. The insecure one. The trying-too-hard one. The strong one. The healing one. The becoming one.

Forgive me for criticizing what You were carefully crafting. Help me see myself the way You do — not as a collection of mistakes, but as a story of redemption.

Root my identity so deeply in You that the mirror no longer defines me — it reminds me. Reminds me that You do not waste seasons. You do not miscalculate personalities. You do not create without purpose.

Teach every woman reading this — the young girl searching, the woman rebuilding, the one who feels behind — that she has always been known. Always been forming. Always been becoming.

Let the mirror reflect grace.

Amen.