I still remember the small chunky diary I kept when I was 13. It was a peach color, with peach pages, peachy thin faded lines to write upon, and decorated with not only the simple line drawings throughout, but with stickers I stuck upon the cover. I can’t recall much of what I wrote about other than school, friends, and cute boys. I threw it away along with mountains of other journals probably about a decade ago.
Perhaps that is strange, the throwing away. However, throughout all of the years I’ve kept a journal, the purpose of it was not for a historical record for my family to peruse should they be inclined, but for my own meditations and musings, a place to work my thoughts out, to consider my ways lest I fall into deep ditches that become normalized and comfortable trenches of needling discouragement I can’t put my finger on. Somehow, seeing the challenges I endure described right there in pen on paper takes the bite out of them, and frees my mind to think on more beautiful, and truer, things.
Occasionally, I am stumped. I want to write. I need to write. My head is full of words. But the wiring from my mind to my fingers are short circuited by the hypnosis of the blank pages. Meanwhile, the clock ticks on and I know if I do not get words on the page, my children will begin romping around before I am prepared, and they will have a muddled headed mother to deal with. So, I do love a good journal prompt now and again and seek them out.
“Good” being the key word there. Sometimes I’m like a teenage boy flipping foods in the fridge decrying the lack of anything of nutritional support. Bleh.
But mostly I take the prompt I find on, however I’m feeling about it. I copy the prompt down and might even begin writing about how lousy and stupid this prompt is, how cliche’, how pointless all of this writing business is and how I ought to simply spend my 15 minutes catching up on my YouTube subscriptions instead. I might be so annoyed that I make a short list of far better prompts that someone ought to come up with instead.
And so I begin.
Before I throw away a journal and begin a new one, I reread the old one with a highlighter pen in hand. I’m searching for bits of dreams or wishes or lessons or hopes that I want to carry forward. Some of my entries make me laugh, remembering events or how silly and immature I was, back then, way back six or eight months ago. Other entries make me groan, the mirror of my own flesh showing its rot. But I find the little bits that encourage me and then, when finished, am ready to begin my new notebook.
Those little bits are the prompts that get me into the new blank book. Sometimes, I have simply used them as lists, copying ideas into the first few pages. Sometimes, I actually take scissors and cut out phrases or words and glue them into the cover of my new notebook. Once I’ve done the forwarding, I have no qualms about throwing away the old journal. It’s done its job.
And here I am, this early June, gleaning from my older lime green Septcouleur notebook. Yes, I know I could purchase a spiral from Walmart for pocket change in August, but something about the slipperiness, the thickness, the smooth way my pencil glides across the Septcouleur page like a graceful woman on ice skates across a frozen pond makes the extra dollars for a more expensive notebook worth it. Not all of us are paper snobs, but I curate my writing paper just like I do my olive oil.
What are you grateful for?
Ah. That prompt. The boring one. The one that I’m told to write, think, ponder, and live. The one that’s supposed to be the kingpin of all prompts. Supposedly.
Colossians 3:15 And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to the which also ye are called in one body; and be ye thankful.
That Holy Spirit. Convicting me before I’m even out of my pajamas. And for good measure:
Romans 1:21 Because that, when they knew God, they glorified him not as God, neither were thankful; but became vain in their imaginations, and their foolish heart was darkened.
Maybe writing what I’m grateful for wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
1/4/2024
Today I shall list things I am grateful for, lest my wants and desires overshadow the blessings I have and rob me of my gratitude and peace. First, the calling of God and His resurrecting a dead woman who was so lost in her sins she never gave a moment’s thought to the possibility she’d been living in deception, lies, and falsehood, and was storing up for herself the utter and complete wrath of God. I took no part in this calling whatsoever and I give thanks for it, that in my doubts and failures I can bring to remembrance His great mercy and grace upon me and therefore repent and trust my Savior every moment as needed (as I mentioned, Every Moment), believing His promises as I take even one more breath. Second, His mercy in providing me not only the Holy Spirit but a copy of His Word that I know how to read. What an absolute undeserved treasure; may He grant me the ability to take His words into my memory and bless my efforts at such. I am thankful for my faithful and hardworking husband who despite his faults loves me despite mine. God has made for me a home full of children and for that I am most grateful for each and every one. I continue to pray fervently that no one (not one!) would be lost, and I entrust each of the souls to my Shepherd’s kind and sovereign keeping. I’m thankful for the health and abilities and knowledge I have, for beauty around me. Cozy blankets and electricity and solid walls. Peace in my time and where I live, even as I am horrified by the trials mothers in other parts of the world must go through. I pray for their salvation, their protection, their help, their comfort, their safety, their peace in God who alone is able to keep not only their souls, but the souls of their children. I’m thankful for the friends I have and even how they come and go, whom the Lord sees fit for whatever time of life I am in. I pray for their walks in the Lord, their study, their peace, their growth in the Lord, that the desires of their hearts would be met in Christ Jesus. I’m thankful for my parents (…); they gave me a sweet childhood and kept me safe, even as God Himself watched over me. I pray for their souls and (…) I’m thankful for the beautiful world and ask that I would be mindful of what I say “yes” to and learn to steward this small corner well. May God provide the energy and funding to keep this area well, and should He not, may I have peace in the matter and live in gratitude for whatever He has given to me, whether much or little, and rejoice in the day He has truly made, each and every day. Praise the Lord.
Afterwards, my coffee tastes better. My words and my tone are softer. My mind is clearer, and my spirit is more at peace. I will, of course, forget this tomorrow, when I return to the empty page. But I will still show up, expectantly. I might even throw in a sticker or two 📝