Last night I sat on my daughter's bed and completed my last journal entry for 2014 (yep, I know I'm a little behind). As I closed the journal a flood of emotions swept over me. I placed my new journal beside my old one and stared at them both. So different and yet very much the same. Yes, I'm being very sentimental, but that's ok, this is me being very real and transparent about my thought process.... and very deep. Let me explain what was going through my mind as I said goodbye to an old friend and hello to a new one.
My old "friend" is a bit worn and bulging from the pictures taped inside. It's been through a lot, has seen a lot of places, been tossed around and probably has a few crumbs from snacks eaten while writing and many splashes of tears. It smells of leather, tape, ink, a little fruity from skittles, and of grain, dust and fresh air... When I flip through the pages I see adventure, victory, triumph, laughter, hugs, tears, sickness, grief... loss. This "friend" has let me pour out all my troubles when no one else would listen. This "friend" let me cry and didn't ask any questions or judge me. This "friend" let me wrap my arms around it's spine and hold it close to my heart as I sobbed for my loss. This "friend" let me toss it to the side when I was frustrated and was not offended when I walked away. This "friend" waited patiently for my return and didn't question me when I had nothing to say. This "friend" will keep all my stories safe from time passing and will help me remember when my memory fails me. My new "friend" awaits.
So, I sat there and stared at the two books. I know they're just journals but to me, they tell MY story. Being a writer of sorts, that is one way that I express myself. I picked up my old journal and as I rifled through the pages, catching glimpses of an adventure here, a loss there.... I wondered if anyone would ever read all that I had put on the pages. I looked over at my daughter, who was watching me curiously, especially since I had tears quietly streaming down my face. The thought that then rocked me was, would my daughters ever read them, would I have grand-kids that would ask me to read to them the stories inside... would I have descendents that would discover them years after I'm gone, blow off the dust and begin to read about this woman, this ancestor whom they didn't know. Would my words that I'd written ever matter to anyone but me? I warned you that this would be deep. I realized as I placed the old journal to the side that I may never pick it up again to read what I'd written. That reality of that thought was so sad.
I guess my jumbled up thoughts are centered around the single question... What's next? When I first began writing in my old journal many months ago, I had no clue that I would be writing about my husband having to leave the state to find work and how lonely I would be or that I would be telling of my adventure with Cheyenne across the mid-west to visit my husband in North Dakota... or that on the way back home I would visit New York and Washington, DC. There was no way I knew that I would be writing in frustration and anger about my mom's cancer returning and her having to go through treatments or that I would be writing about my grief as I told about the loss of my dad. No, I didn't know those things as I began writing on fresh pages that awaited my stories. As I pick up the new journal and rifle through it's blank pages, I wonder what stories it will hold in a few months. Will there be more grief and heartache? Will there be unexpected surprises? Will there be more tears than laughter? There is no telling what the future holds and what stories of my life will be written amongst the pages of a journal that one day, may be placed on a shelf and long forgotten, never to be picked up again. And I discovered that even though that's a bit sad, that I'm okay with that too. Because these old "friends" of mine are very much like my human old friends... they're never far away and they can always help you to remember what may have been forgotten.
So, I ask... What's Next? Only God knows... and He will not bring me to any hurdle that He has not prepared me to jump... oh wait, I just have to give it to Him and I don't even have to jump... He will carry me.
