When I write in my journal, I just let my pen flow however it wants to. The Bible says that from the overflow of the heart, the mouth speaks. That usually isn’t the case for me. I actually find that I have trouble expressing what I truly feel or think just by speaking. So I write it out first, and when I do, I write in the comfort that the truth of what’s in my heart is safe within the hardcover binding of my journal. That whatever words make it onto paper are safe from judging eyes and malicious hearts.
My point: when I wrote in my journal about eventually having paper as my only companion, I was flustered and consumed by this idea that I am alone within the confines of myself. That when I get quiet and I spend time swimming in my thoughts, I am isolated and lonely and no one understands and no one hears. And I guess that worried me.
But I was missing one very important point, a point that I have known but have forgotten in the flurry of negative thoughts and insecurities. I am never alone. We are never alone. Our bodies are temples of the one and only Holy Spirit. He lives inside of us and walks with us through every trial and every hardship. He has never and will never leave us. Every struggle, every hurt, every mistake amounts to absolutely nothing when we realize that His presence is not earned, nor is it deserved.
But He loved us first. Even before we make any choice about anything, about following Him or not following Him. He loved us first, and He continues to love us through all of our dirt and shame and disbelief.
language. your unique communication style. some people are comfortable being blunt and honest, others use their bodies. some write, some paint, some play music.
expression. such a diverse and special part of what makes people unique. one-of-a-kind. tailored to a life that only you have experienced. molded through a lifetime of joy and pain and choices to become what it is for you now.
i love writing, but somehow i’m afraid of what it can do. like eventually i’ll stop speaking altogether. i’m afraid of waking up one day to find that i’ve reverted so much into myself that i no longer have the strength or courage to speak.
what if paper winds up being my only companion? i don’t know. the things i think about i guess.