Saturday, a woman came to look at the house. She brought her parents Sunday. And Monday morning - a holiday, we had an offer! Amazing. God is amazing and His timing is always perfect.
I was going to write about "home" tonight ... but I think I want to tackle something else first - my journal writing in general. I am the only person I know that keeps a journal. Maybe besides my Grampy, who I've known to take notes in church and write memoirs. But I don't know if he still journals? I don't even journal every day - just when I make time for it or am thinking about it. I kind of have cycles, you know? There are seasons when I'm determined to write every single day. Then it gets monotonous - or something - and I revert back to "sometimes is better than no times".
It drives me crazy if I write in multiple places. Because then I lose things. My favorite, most fulfilling journaling moments are when I refuse to write anywhere else but in one place - at least until it's full.
My mom says I write with my heart on my sleeve - both in my journals and online. When she first told me that, I thought, "Really? Did I embarrass you?" Is it wrong to allow people to see how you're really feeling? What you really struggle with? It would be great, maybe, to always be optimistic. But is that real? Would you ever really scratch deeper than the surface?
I often times forget that anyone might ever read what I write. OK, maybe that's two fold - I do write, hoping that someday someone will appreciate them and treasure them. For example, when I die someday, will my grieving family find them, read them and be somewhat comforted? Or maybe a relative of mine several generations down the line might find them (the journals) in the attic and get to know that crazy relative from the 20th/21st century. But at the same time - it shocks me to hear when someone has read my thoughts (this usually only happens with my blog). I guess secretly, I'm afraid that once I'm gone, they will have little to no meaning to anyone else. Rather than be lovingly, carefully stored for future generations in an old trunk in the attic - someone may decide they're a waste of space and throw them all out.
So, I guess ultimately, why do I write then? For perspective. To get stuff off my chest and off my mind. To look back at my journey and see how God's changing me. Seriously, to be reminded of His goodness and all that He's done for me and continues to do. To reflect. To be thankful. To learn more about myself. To gauge who I am today and chart a course for who God is making me to be in the future. Really - it's therapy for me :). Without it, sometimes I feel like I could lose my mind.
And then there's always the struggle between: do I continue to handwrite in a journal or do I succumb to being drawn towards journaling on the computer. Sure, I can type pretty fast, get thoughts down essentially as I think them. And you can still find me in there. It's clearer, too, usually. But isn't there something about your own handwriting that screams you? Maybe 50 years from now, 100 years from now, no one will use pen and paper anymore. But it will also be digital. I don't know. But I definitely feel like my generation is at that crossroads.
I will continue to write, whether traditionally or in the way of the future :). If not for my family, then for myself. I want to be a better woman and how can I be if I'm not taking hard looks at myself often and seeking to be more like Christ? Because He's all that's worth emulating.
Lord, I give you permission to use my journaling to change me and to make me a better woman, wife, mom, friend.
In Jesus' name,
Amen!
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