My journal.

If you've known me a little, you know I love words. I hold onto lyrics, poems, phrases, Bible verses, and single words close to my heart for various reasons. If you know me a little better, you know I love to write. I love to document what is happening for me in the day-to-day, and to capture life themes, lessons, and happy memories for the future.

Usually, I carry a journal through the duration of it's pages. I get close to the end, and try to fill it as quickly as possible with lyrics, Bible verses, songs, random facts so that I can move on to the next beautiful journal I have lined up. I get really excited to write on that first page.

However, the current journal I have is quite special. Maybe it's because it was gifted to me two Christmases ago by my housemate (I usually purchase my own). Or because it's a legitimate journal that is hardcover, or the fact that it has a pocket where I keep my mementos. I am about 3 pages from ending it, and I'm dragging my feet.

Yes, I already have a journal waiting for me, a beautiful one also gifted by a friend, but the journal I'm in has a lot of significance for me. This journal holds between the pages a lot of powerful moments in my journey with God, friends, and inner healing. The recognition of the loss of a father, the death of a great friend, the catalyst to a lot of work and healing, and the beginning of being planted in Fresno.

This journal represents a significant amount of time, every journal I possess does. This time I recognize the value and preciousness (is that a word?) of what is held between the pages of my journal, and how I've been able to capture what is happening for me: fully knowing God's grace and mercy, the gift of community, and the value of struggle and grief.