There is an entire drawer in my bedroom dedicated to my journals. There are about a dozen of them in there, all different shapes and sizes. Each entry a glimpse inside my heart and mind in different seasons of life.
I began journaling when I was a teen because my ideas, no matter how cluttered and jumbled they might be in my mind, always seemed clearer on paper (to date, there’s never been a misunderstanding between my journal and me). Of course, my entries have evolved over time, replacing angst with wisdom. Every now and then, I read through some of my older entries. The growth is real, sis!
Yet, whenever I read through old journals, I notice something from time to time: gaps. I can often trace those gaps to periods in my life when there was a lot going on inside…perhaps more than I wanted to face. Somehow, writing it all out meant accountability: I couldn’t deny it anymore, couldn’t lie to myself. I had to reconcile whatever was going on inside. Some of my most sincere and transformative entries happened when I was on vacation. There’s something about slowing down that helps bring things into focus so you can speed up and relaunch…
Of course, this trip was no exception. While there haven’t been lengthy gaps in recent weeks, there was (I discovered) a need to slow down and refocus. So, I did. There’s so much to be found in the quiet when the pace is the complete opposite of my everyday.