Thomsen Young

Part 2 of 6 in the “Letters to My Younger Self” Series

This is the second in a six-part series I’m exploring — honest letters to my younger self at different stages of life. Each one is a reflection on faith, identity, and the often messy road of becoming. I’m writing these letters not just to remember where I’ve been, but to offer encouragement to anyone walking through their own season of uncertainty, transition, or rediscovery.

Dear 18-year-old Thomsen,

You just graduated from David Douglas High School in Portland, Oregon. That diploma feels like both a victory and a question mark. You’re standing at a crossroads, holding college acceptance letters in your hand — University of Oregon, University of Portland, and University of the Pacific. Everyone expects you to know what’s next, but inside you feel unsure, unprepared, and honestly a little overwhelmed.

Let me say this clearly: it’s okay not to have it all figured out.

You’ll choose not to go to college right away — not because you’re lazy or unmotivated, but because you feel the weight of independence and the reality of finances. You’ll make a bold choice to step out on your own and find a job, even as pressure mounts from family who believe that being 18 means being entirely self-sufficient.

That choice will take you to Blount Inc., the world’s largest chainsaw manufacturer. Graveyard and swing shifts will become your new normal. It’s gritty, repetitive, exhausting work — but it’s there you’ll meet people who change your life forever.

You’ll meet Deaf and hard-of-hearing coworkers who welcome you in and teach you American Sign Language. Without formal classes or textbooks, you’ll start learning language, culture, and friendship on the factory floor. And every day they’ll look you in the eye and tell you something you won’t fully believe yet:

“You don’t belong here — you’re meant for more.”

You’ll want to believe it, but doubt will linger. Not just in yourself, but in your purpose. Even in your faith.

That year, you’ll fall in love for the first time — a Deaf Christian woman named Cindy. You’ll meet her at a Deaf pizza night near Western Oregon University, and when she says “yes” to dating you, it will feel like something real is beginning. But relationships are complicated when you’re still figuring out who you are. You won’t know how to navigate conflict or communicate through difficulty. You’ll end up letting insecurity and ego get in the way. And when the relationship ends, you’ll feel lost, ashamed, and uncertain — about love, about God, about yourself.

Here’s what I wish you knew back then:

You didn’t fail because you didn’t know everything. You were 18. You were trying. You were learning. And God wasn’t finished with you.

That breakup won’t define you — but it will shape you. It’ll teach you how deeply words matter. How humility matters. How listening and patience can sometimes speak louder than passion. You’ll carry regret, yes, but eventually, you’ll find wisdom in it.

And in the middle of all that confusion, your faith will be tested. But that’s when it will start to grow. Not because you’ve found all the answers, but because you’ll realize that faith grows in the uncertainty — not around it.

There are days when you’ll wish you could go back and fix things. Apologize better. Stay longer. Be more patient. And you’ll wish you had more people to talk to — a circle of friends to help you process life and faith and relationships. You’ll feel like you had to figure it all out on your own.

But the truth is — God was never far. Even in the graveyard shift. Even after the heartbreak. Even in the silence.

Let these verses anchor you:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways submit to him, and he will make your paths straight.”
— Proverbs 3:5–6

This is your reminder: You don’t have to figure it all out. You just have to stay surrendered.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”
— Psalm 34:18

When your heart feels shattered — in love, in loss, in loneliness — you are never truly alone.

“Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.”
— Philippians 1:6

God doesn’t leave things half-finished. He’s not done with you — not even close.

To you, 18-year-old me:

Keep asking questions. Keep walking with God. Even if the road feels messy and confusing, stay the course. You won’t always get it right — and that’s okay. What matters is that you keep moving forward with honesty, humility, and hope.

You’re not supposed to have it all figured out. You’re supposed to be learning. And you are.

Love,

Me at 43

Reflection for the Reader

You may be reading this in your own season of questions — whether you’re 18, 28, or 58. Maybe you’ve also wondered if you’re behind, or felt like you should be further along by now. But hear this:

God never measures your worth by your certainty. He walks with you in your questions.

Faith isn’t the absence of doubt. It’s the courage to trust God in the middle of it.
You don’t have to have it all figured out. You’re not behind. You’re becoming.

Take time today to reflect:

• Where are you trying to “have it all figured out”?
• What’s one area you need to release to God’s timing, not yours?
• Who are the people God has used to shape you, even in unexpected places?

Closing Prayer

Father,
Thank You that we are fully known and still fully loved by You.
Thank You for walking with us through the moments when we feel lost, unsure, or broken.
Remind us that our value is not in our performance or perfection — it’s in Your presence.
Help us to trust You, especially when the path ahead feels unclear.
Make us bold in faith and gentle in heart.
May we walk forward not because we have all the answers,
but because we know You are leading the way.

In Jesus’ name,
Amen.