I said goodbye to my latest journal this morning. The final page took me by surprise... my habit of taking random notes on the back pages always leads me to overestimate the space I have left. It's just paper, fabric, thoughts and prayers but this particular journal has gone everywhere with me through the last six months of my life.
They've been important months, I can track the progress of my study, my prayer and even my character through it's pages. As I reluctantly took it out of my bag to transport upstairs to my ever growing archive, I opened the first page to read where I began... the answer... I began with 'presence'. I flicked through the book and down a totally different avenue I got to 'presence' again. Without needing to look at the final, fresh pages I know that 'presence' is where I still am. I've been surprisingly ignorant to my six month theme. God has been practically shouting at me about being aware.
This is what I love about journals. I wouldn't want mine to be read by anyone but very close friends and I doubt they would make much sense even to them. I've developed a kind of short hand in my scribblings and drawings that represent common topics and prayers. Their value lies not in what is actually written or recorded but in what they represent. I'm usually excited to say goodbye to one journal and start the adventure of fresh pages in another, but this time I feel it has come all too soon. As I sit poised with my fountain pen over the first new page I am uncertain how to begin... xc