Dear 11-year-old self,
You wouldn’t believe how proud you would be of us 10 years from now. You could never have imagined that after an eating disorder that nearly took your life, after a diagnosis of lupus, and after seasons that felt unbearably heavy, you would grow into someone who feels whole, not because life became easy, but because you encountered Christ.
You would not believe the adventures ahead of you. The places you would go, the people you would meet, and the healing that would slowly, gently unfold. You would travel to El Salvador and celebrate Grandma’s 87th birthday, surrounded by family you hadn’t seen in years, and now she is 91. You would learn that time and love are gifts not to be rushed but cherished.
You would step into uncomfortable places and discover that so much fruit grows there. You would find the friendships you longed for, a community where you feel seen, and a best friend who truly understands you. The girl who once felt alone would one day stand in front of rooms full of people, giving talks at retreats and helping lead ministry for other young people searching for meaning and belonging. Can you believe that?
There would still be heartache. But you would not walk through it alone. Christ would be there in every season, even in the moments when you felt abandoned. You didn’t realize then that he was closer than you imagined, so close, like a gentle kiss on your forehead, reminding you that you were never forgotten. Never left behind.
And then you would find a home in the Catholic Campus Ministry at George Mason University in Fairfax. Through late-night conversations, prayer, worship, retreats, and authentic friendship, you would begin to understand what it means to be known and loved in community. The GMU CCM would shape you in ways you never expected — teaching you how to live your faith not just privately, but joyfully and publicly. It would challenge you to grow, to serve and to step into leadership when you felt unqualified. In that community, you would learn that holiness is not lived alone, but alongside others who are striving, failing and beginning again together. It would become the place where your faith deepened, where healing continued, and where you first began to see that your story could be used to serve others.
You would become stronger. Physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. After becoming involved in this community, you would spend a summer in Montana as part of a program called Summer Projects, working full-time in the hospitality industry, work that is far from easy. Yet, in the midst of long hours and tiring days, you would learn how to balance work with fellowship, community and intentional faith formation. In just a few months, you would discover how much life can be lived when faith and friendship are shared so fully. You would laugh, go tubing, and even go skydiving with a priest and a group of friends. In that short season, you would learn that joy often waits on the other side of surrender.
And slowly, through all of it, you would learn what surrender really means. Not giving up, but giving your life over in trust, believing that the Lord can do more with your yes than you ever could on your own. And in that surrender, you would discover a deeper purpose.
After graduation, you would say yes to becoming a FOCUS missionary, trusting that God’s plans are greater than your fears and far more beautiful than anything you could have written for yourself. What once felt impossible, living a life centered entirely on faith and mission, would become your joy. And you would not step into this calling alone. Alongside friends you have prayed with, struggled with, and grown with — Jade, Margaret, Kofi, Alessandro, and JD — you would watch each of you respond to God’s invitation in your own way. Together, you would see how the Lord weaves friendship into mission, transforming ordinary lives through simple acts of faithfulness.
And you would realize that this is only the beginning. There would be more healing, more adventure, more joy and more love than you once thought possible.
All the things you once dreamed about doing, we did. And so much more.
I am grateful to you. You taught me trust, the kind that depends on God with childlike wonder. You taught me joy, even when life felt uncertain. You taught me how to hope.
You are loved. You are cared for. You are safe.
You don’t have to be afraid anymore. As Pope John Paul II reminded us, “Be not afraid.”
Ostorga-Carranza, a senior kinesiology major, is active with the Catholic Campus Ministry at George Mason University in Fairfax.
