Skip to main content
Today I'm thankful for a small collection of volumes sitting in a carton by my bed. These slim books vary from each other in size and colors. One has  a painting of a woman strolling in a rose garden on the cover, another has a cheerful cow (I think it looks cheerful anyway) posing beside a sunflower plant. Still another has an elegant tan and gold cover with shimmery pastel flowers seemingly floating across the surface. Altogether, there are at least 9 if not 10 volumes. They contain my life. They are my journals from at least the age of 8. I have never been good at writing every day. Some entries are spread apart by months, some by a year or more. But I'm glad I have kept it up for the most part all these years.
Occasionally, I will pull one of them out and re-read its contents, laughing at the poor spelling and grammar, at the strange things I chose to record (why did I give detailed descriptions of so many breakfasts, most of which were nothing more than nutty nuggets and toast??), at the funny memories that they recall...
I also find myself wiping away tears sometimes as I read the pages...
It is 1996 and I am a girl of 12, dealing with the sudden sorrow of the loss of a brother I will only know as a fragile infant the length of my daddy's hand, his delicate skin covering ten perfect fingers and toes, his miniscule eyes the brightest blue I've ever seen. I read and weep, feeling the pain of that day like it was yesterday, of holding the tiny wooden box holding my brother, Joshua James, rocking him gently and crying. It was a long time ago. But once in a while, I read about it and cry, remembering. His little grave is in Apex, North Carolina in an old, beautiful churchyard beside Catawba Springs Christian Church, my childhood church home. His marker says his name and date of birth and death, then simply "Safe in the Arms of Jesus".
I didn't mean to write about that memory today to be honest. It just happened without much thought. But it is only one of thousands of sorrows and joys that have been woven through my days. Each sorrow and joy has shaped or shattered aspects of who I am becoming. In the pages of my life, two twin silver threads  shimmer, sometimes stunning in their brilliance, often partly hidden by selfish thoughts or immature actions. But they are  there:  the silver strands of God's grace and His faithfulness. Over and over in my life. Not once or twice, but abudantly over and over.
That's why I am so thankful  for my journals. Perfect grammar? Um. NO. Elegant penmanship? Ha. But  a reminder that my imperfect self is beloved by a Perfect God?  YES.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

God is doing a new thing..

 On March 18, 2022, I thought I might never be happy again. I sobbed my goodbyes to the man I loved and who I thought I'd grow old with. He was in many ways my world, along with our then four year old son. My world shattered that day.  But God had other plans. Do I understand why God allowed Matt to go home to Glory at age 38? Do I understand why all of our hopes and plans for the future were swept away on a tide of seemingly unending grief? No. I don't.  But I have seen God take the shards of my broken heart and fit them back together into something created for His honor.  Several months after my husband's untimely death, I struck up a friendship with one of Matt's closest friends, Ryan. We started texting each other about all kinds of random things: funny stories from our day, encouragement from Scripture, favorite memories or movies or events...we never seemed to run out of things to say to each other. I was finding myself very interested. But the timing was not r...

Slippers

   It is a frosty October morning. A new moon hangs in the pale sky.  And I slide my feet into your old slippers.  The thought occurs that I don't need to apologize for borrowing them anymore.  You used to ask me not to take them. They were broken in just right for you.  I had my own slippers. But after you died, I threw my own away. I didn't need them. I had yours. My feet needed to fit in the imprints you left. So I take a deep breath and open the door, And though my breath rises like a ghost into the cold air My feet and heart are warm as I whisper, "thank you."

Pregnancy Loss and a gracious God

  He makes the barren woman to keep house and to be a joyful mother of children. Psalm 113:9 A week ago, this verse would have made me angry. But as I slowly begin to heal after a miscarriage, I am finding comfort in that precious verse. This was my third pregnancy loss. Twice within our first year of marriage, my husband and I experienced this sorrow. It was heartbreaking. But we recovered as best we could. Finally, after almost a year of trying, I conceived again. We were so thrilled. We got in to see the OB doctor very early and I was closely monitored. All seemed fine. We got to see our little bean’s heart beating fast at just 5 and a half weeks on Dec. 22. (That was a joy we had not experienced with our other pregnancies which both ended before a heartbeat was detected.) Though I struggled with nausea and fatigue, I rejoiced at these symptoms of what I hoped was a healthy pregnancy. On January 12, I had another ultrasound. I was about 8 and a half weeks along....