I am the same. I’m the same person inside. I have the same passionate heart to help others, the same desire to empathize and put myself in someone else’s shoes, the same ability to dream, laugh, love. Just as when I was a little girl.
Yet, I am different. I am new. Changed. Molded. Shaped by life. I don’t trust quite as easily as I used to – due to being hurt one too many times. I am wiser (hopefully.) More knowledgeable. And I’ve added things to my heart, my character, my personality.
My values and morals are the same. Stronger, maybe. But I am changed. And I am changing – even today.
Everything I go through in life changes me. Having babies. Being a stepmom. Becoming a grandma. Being married. Traveling. Writing. Moving states. Leading. Following. Being sick and being well. Walking through tragedy both myself and with those I care about. It all impacts me.
And I love that about life. I love that about me. I love who I’m becoming. I love that God can still teach me something new. That He can still reach my heart right where I’m at. I love that He never gets old.
I love that I feel like an old soul on some days, and a young teenager on others.
I AM changed. I’m not the same girl that I used to be. I miss parts of her. The parts that were innocent, and ready to take on the world. Other parts of that little girl, I’m happy to grow, enhance, and strengthen. But she still lives on in me. She is still a part of me. Always.
So when I meet up with people who I used to know a long time ago; I can say, “I’m still the same me.” And I am. But then again, I’m not. I’m more. I’ve been hurt more. Loved more. Learned more. And I’ve lived more.
I have changed.