When You’ve Grown but Don’t Feel Different

I didn’t wake up a different person.

No lightning bolt, no dramatic change. Just the same slippers, the same chai in the microwave, the same feeling of half-readied resolve and a to-do list I was already behind on.

But here’s what I’m noticing: somewhere between packing lunches, answering emails, and heating the milk just right for my chai—I’ve changed.

Not all at once. Not loudly. But undeniably.

I used to carry every little thing like it was mine alone. Every school form, every dish left out, every task at work—it all felt like it had my name on it. I wasn’t angry about it, not exactly. Just tired. Tired in the way that lives in your bones and makes you forget you're allowed to rest, allowed to ask for help, allowed to leave the laundry on the table again.

But now? I catch myself letting go.

Letting someone else load the dishwasher—even if they don’t do it “right.”

Letting the email wait until after dinner.

Letting my kids figure out a problem before I rush in with an answer.

Letting silence be an answer when someone wants more than I have to give.

And none of it feels like defeat. It feels like trust.

Because growth doesn’t always show up in bigger dreams or louder wins. Sometimes it looks like smaller reactions, softer answers, and deeper breaths. Sometimes it looks like walking into the same room you’ve walked into a thousand times and realizing—you’re different in it now.

The Bible says, “Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.” (Philippians 4:5)

Maybe that’s what’s different. Gentleness. Not the kind that makes you smaller, but the kind that anchors you. That says, “You can handle this,” without having to handle everything.

I’m not new. I’m becoming.

And it doesn’t feel like a grand transformation. It feels like grace in my everyday rhythms—spilled over cereal bowls, through half-finished prayers, and in the quiet moments where I realize I don’t need to try so hard to prove anything anymore.

So if you’ve been wondering why you’re not feeling some big shift, why your growth hasn’t announced itself with fireworks—maybe look again.

Maybe it’s in how you answered your kid this morning.

Or how you didn’t answer that text right away.

Or how you laughed when you could’ve sighed.

Or forgave yourself instead of spiraling.

Growth lives in those corners, too.

You’re becoming more than you know, friend.

And you didn’t need to wake up different. You just needed to keep showing up.

—The Rusted Sparrow