If I didn't see the project through, then I wouldn't be out more than a quarter. I could probably find that quarter sometime and call it even.
But I chose to write. And write. And write. And write.
This marbled composition book has brought me through wonderful moments of peace and clarity. A clipping from Southern Living, funny moment from my kids, random thoughts (anyone else love the sound of crinkled notebook paper that has been written on both sides? Anyone else get a weird sense of satisfaction at all? Anyone???)
It also saw me through some deep, deep moments. Moments of sadness, moments of resolution, moments of confusion. I have words that will only be shared between the Lord and myself. Too private to share with people, too private to share here.
I don't have the gift of words like some people. I write from the heart--it's matter of fact, honest, and off the cuff. I rarely use large vocabulary words, and I tend to put my important statements in the middle.
Because if you're a skimmer like me, your eyes are drawn to changes in the text.
I never plan for what leaps from my heart onto the paper (or on the keys when I share my thoughts here). It just comes in a wave, I flush it out, and I move on.
I had a similar period of writing from the end of my junior year into my senior year of college. A year of trying to determine who I really was and who I wanted to be in this Great Big Wonderful World. My notebook was slightly fancier, you could probably even call it a journal as it had recycled pages that weren't ironed smooth at a factory. It was beautiful with a ribbon tie.
There are many times I go through my belongings as a way to purge, but I will never part with these. These books are evidence of growth, change, and life. I see things in myself that I would never notice in the day in, day outness of life.
37. Written word
38. Personal growth
These are some of my gifts, what are yours?