by Shelley Taylor/Guest Blogger
At the grand age of 71, my inner child is finally catching up to my own age. She has been five years old for as long as I can remember.
There was a time when she stretched into her teenage years and embraced the thrill of young love, cigarettes, and patchouli oil. Those rich, exciting memories would tempt my inner child for short periods of time, especially on random hot summer days, only to ricochet her back into a terrified, vulnerable five-year-old once again.
She remained in that age range for decades—from five to sixteen—only shifting into adulthood when need and duty demanded it. She became a wife, a mother, a caregiver, and eventually a widow. Those roles required strength and responsibility, but deep inside, there was still a frightened little girl trying to make sense of the world.
Only in the past few years has my inner child truly grown into full womanhood. Now she is steadily evolving into the Wise Crone—the wise woman on the hill who provides a safe space for tea, light conversation, or the hard, heavy talks that draw pain and turmoil from those who need comfort, feedback, or simply someone to hold space for them.
My inner child is still learning. There is always more to discover, more ways to grow, and more wisdom to gather. She reminds me daily to stay in my own lane, remain humble, and love myself. She encourages me to make my own well-being a priority rather than an afterthought. Over time, she has become a trusted companion whose guidance I have learned to respect.
She is more than intuition. She is best friends with the Holy Spirit within me, and she is deeply connected to God. She is a safe voice to listen to, especially when life becomes complicated and noisy.
Except when she wants ice cream.
Then she’s a demanding, foot-stamping five-year-old all over again—and she usually wins.
Chocolate or strawberry?