I write. I love to write.
Truth is, that's a lie. At least, it's not completely true. Because if I did, I wouldn't cringe at the thought of pouring out my heart on paper.
Writing someone else's story is fine. Writing my protagonist's story: his/her fears, joys, trials...etc. That's all fine. I love that. I love getting lost in someone else's story. But my own?
My journal pages stare at me. And I grip the pen tighter. Because the moment I start writing, I know I can be at it for hours. The result? My thoughts are in order, a kind of peace settles in. And I'm glad. When I look back, I'm glad. I see what I struggled with yesterday and where God has brought me today. And my words become a testimony.
But on the spot, seeing those words, those thoughts on paper..I have to admit I don't have it together. I can't ignore the tears that fill my eyes. I have to come face to face with feelings I thought didn't exist. The fear I didn't know was there. The ungrateful thought that had lurked in the corner of my mind. And then I realize that I really don't have it together. That's just a lie I like to believe.
I realize I struggle with more than what I see on the surface. I realize who I am and who I let myself believe I am don't fit perfectly together. Who I am is what comes out on paper. It's not all ugly. Actually, it's sweet. A young woman growing stronger each day. It's true. I come out stronger, by His grace.
When I feel discontent, I get over it, move on and forget all about it. When I write that feeling down on paper, the words are permanent. The blank lines of my journal ask "why"? And I go on to answer. In so doing I go beyond the surface. Sometimes, I don't like what I see. I write in all honesty...why hide? So I say things as they are. Scolding myself for my imperfections.
Yet there is hope.
When I feel a certain way, I can look back and remember that I've been there. The pages of my journal, highlighted in different shades, attest to that. And there is hope, hope I cling on to. I can deal with this. I can get over it. Because I've been there. And God took me through. He'll do it again.
And then I'm broken.
My flaws remind me I need my heavenly Daddy. He holds me together. My lack of faith written in bold ink brings me to a place of surrender. I am humbled. I'm reminded I am a work in the making. And He's making me new. It's OK to not have it together all the time. It's Ok to admit I'm weak, imperfect, disorganized, maybe even a little insecure. Because His power works best in my weakness (2 Corinth. 12:9). I'm reminded just how much I need my God.
Then I grow in faith.
From my emotions, my thoughts become prayers. My tone changes from recounting, analyzing emotions to saying a prayer. And when I look back. I smile. I'm overjoyed at how God answered. I'm grateful for the testimonies He's given me. Testimonies I can't forget and brush under the carpet because it's here. Written in ink and most probably highlighted (I have a thing with highlighting my journal).
I overflow with gratitude.
Oh, my journal's filled with accounts of lovely things too. I'm not always fighting my emotions. No. Page after page of happy, joyful moments. Memories I wouldn't trade for the world. And when I read back, my heart is filled with gratitude. Even the not-so-pretty fill me with joy. I think to myself, that girl, who wrote that...she's come a long way. And I'm relieved. Overjoyed.
I look to the future.
Because what happened yesterday doesn't define me. The pages filled with my handwritting don't define me. They speak of a journey. The road still lies ahead. I take His hand and hold on tight. With Him by my side, I'm excited for the future. And every day is the first day of the rest of my life. I'm going to make it count.
So, will I keep journaling? Defintely! Do I still cringe when I think of my own words staring back at me? Yes. But they are words that tell a beautiful story. A stroy of transformation taking place each day.
Do you journal? Why? If not, why not? Do share!