A couple years ago I was going through some boxes in our basement and I came across all my journals from high school. I had at least a dozen little books filled with all the rambling thoughts of a teenager. It was a record of a young girl so confused about life, struggling with so many things and I promptly threw them all in the trash.
When we moved last year I came across another box of journals and these were from early college, married life and up to just a few years ago. It was a record of a woman less confused about life, filled with hope for the future, but still struggling with so many things. I almost tossed these, but when I started skimming back through some of them I was almost saddened. Not because of the struggles, but because of the depth of my relationship with Jesus. It was a record of a time when I was growing in my knowledge of God and the Bible inside each was page after page of prayers for my friends, for my new marriage, for my family and for my life.
My writing life is nothing like it was back in those days of my paper journals. I have a few going now, but they are more of a commonplace book; records of quotes I long to remember and different narrations of things I’m reading. Gone are the days of processing my life out on a page and with it the ability to look back and see how the Lord has grown and stretched me. I know what it was that caused me to stop this constant recording of my life and I’m seeking to move past the shock that froze all the rambling words in my head. But, like something frozen, sometimes it’s easier to just toss it back in the freezer than let it all flow out. And sometimes it starts to flow and I cannot stop it.