Here is a question I’ve been pondering for awhile. Can people change? Do they change? I’ve asked a couple of people, who were quick to say yes. But I’m doubtful. I come from a family of seven, worked with children for longer than I’ve been a child, I’ve been raising my own children for almost 13 years, been married for almost 18. I’ve observed alot of living. I’ll turn 40 in a few weeks and I’m also wondering: Who am I and what am I capable of? Can I change? I feel very much like a little girl, and it’s a bit shocking that I’ve lived 40 years already! Supposedly this is midlife, but it still feels like the beginning. I still love the feel of wind in my face, I love the fantasy and romance of a good story, I love making things with my hands, I love sweets and dislike eating vegetables-all that was true of me from my childhood.
There is a passage in the Bible, 2 Corinthians 5:17 that has some astounding words: “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away, behold, the new has come.” Frankly, this astonishes me, and there is so much in this statement, I cannot even begin to unpack it. Additionally, there is another verse in Ephesians (2:10) that says, “for we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” This implies we have been made in a specific way for a specific and direct purpose. Furthermore, Acts 17:24-28 says, “The God who made the world and everything in it, being Lord of heaven and earth, does not live in temples made by man, nor is he served by human hands, as though he needed anything, since he himself gives to all mankind life and breath and everything. And he made from one man every nation of mankind to live on all the face of the earth, having determined allotted periods and the boundaries of their dwelling place, that they should seek God, and perhaps feel their way toward him and find him. Yet he is actually not far from each one of us, for “‘In him we live and move and have our being’; as even some of your own poets have said,“‘For we are indeed his offspring.’” I was not an accident, and neither are you.
Sometimes I observe others and wish I was different. I get jealous and want to have what others have, do what others do; deep down, my jealousy stems from wanting to be different. I am dissatisfied with what I have and who I am; I desire to change into what I’m not. What am I denying in myself? If I really believed in the Bible, why should I want to be anything different than what I am intended for? Look around! The world is amazing! Am I not part of that too? I see it! Those words above are incredibly beautiful and valuable, even without adding Psalm 139 in the mix.
These questions are probably not surprising to anyone older than I, who has also wrestled with the same questions about their purpose. I’m wondering, Should I continue being a teacher? Can I be creative? Could I do something that I love, even if it provides only benefit for me? Should I? I see how my personality has dictated many of my life choices, and I also see the truth of gospel that I believe in. I’m disappointed in things. I’m amazed at what the Bible teaches, and who Jesus is. Deep down, I’m trying to make sense of who I am and what my practical next steps are, while still navigating the world I find myself in.
There is no conclusion here, or answers. If you’re interested, I’ll leave you with a poem I wrote back in October:
The Little Girl
The little girl
Inside my body
Is very much alive.
She, who
Longs to be delighted in
Chased after and discovered
Looking to be smiled to, and
Welcomed.
To share in golden secrets
Her face still lifts to the rain
And smiles at the sun
And opens her arms
To embrace the wind.
She still marvels at the moving shadows
Or patterns on an insect wing.
The life flowing in a leaf
And the soft brush of a
Velvet petal
I asked my husband if
He thought people could change
And he said yes.
Have I changed?
And he said yes.
In what way?
And he said nevermind.
Sometimes I think I’d rather
Take a punch
Because then I could see
My bruises heal.
How do you know when you heal
After being dismissed?
The little girl I once was
Is still the same
Only she is hidden
Behind hurts,
Under burdens and
Piles of laundry.
Wishing for an adventure to go on
A friend to laugh with
A boy to challenge
Or a free afternoon to spend
Looking at the sky
Marveling at the beauty
Of life.
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