Another year down.
I'm a journaler. I love to write. Yes, blogging is fun, innovative and another outlet for people to share and post their thoughts online. But call me primitive, call me old-fashioned (because in a lot of ways I am and will always be) but there is something different when you put a pen in your hand and let it dance across open pages. And the best thing is, no one ever has to read it but you. Or you never have to read those thoughts and fears again; you just had to get them on something and paste them to some tangible item that will hold merit and proof to that time in your life.
I recently was talking with one of my best friends about journaling. She was not too keen on me talking about it so much. Maybe it is because I get all worked up about it. But I love it. I think every one should journal. When I was in college I wrote to stay sane. Those were some precious but completely fruitful and dark years all coiled into 4 years of confusion, redemption and hope.Those journals that I wrote in are a testament to those times. Every now and then, when I need to be reminded of how God loves his children, I voyage back through those journals. Not they hold a candle to the Bible, which is really where you can find every thing you need--but for me, in my life--those journals are just another proof.
Sometimes when I read back through them, I find myself in tears. Happy tears. Sad tears. Memories that it takes me back to. They are books of my life. Different chapters. Different stories. But the same heart.
All my journals look different. The pages are different. The sizes are different. They are all special in their own way. Now I know I might sound crazy, but I should never have to preface things with that because we all know that I am. I know that these journals are inanimate objects--but they still speak to me. Louder than you would think.
And so another as another year begins, I journal. Page by page, something new.
Farwell for now my friends. Happy journaling.
-S
