Journals
I have 20 journals on my bookshelf. My first journal I started in college. But it was rarely ever written in. I didn't start journal-ing consistently until just after college graduation when I was preparing to leave for my first year in Croatia. And boy, did I say a lot.
The interesting thing about having the last 12 years so heavily documented is that I get an insight into the themes of my character. Things that I said to myself at 21 I'm still saying to myself today. Dreams that I had at 25 popped back up again at 28, 30, 32...its a fascinating introspective retrospective.
I want to share with you some of the central themes I have come back to again and again.
~I hate dressing up.
It doesn't matter how old I am, or what it's for. I hate dressing up. I hate wearing nice shoes and matching things to other things and bedazzling myself. I like jeans. I like boots.
~I have a twisted relationship with music.
I love it. I hate it. I miss it. I crave it. I can't get enough of it. I hate to practice. I love music so much but not to the point that I could ever do it for a living. I like playing with other people in a format that I don't have to be super perfect. But I don't ever seem to practice. But time and time and time again, when life gets bad, or hard, or lonely, I always come back to it.
~I love getting dirty.
I would run to journal when I was a part of something that got my hands dirty. I love hard dirty work. Its awesome.
~Listening is my favorite thing.
I like being someone's sounding board, letting them ramble on and on and on and then offering one simple consoling piece of advice. Most of the highlights of my journals were triggered by people opening up to me, sharing their dreams, their vision, and their heartache.
~There are a lot of un-preached soapboxes in my heart.
There are pages and pages where my handwriting would get so feverish and my words get so big and I would be blistering a page with passionate or indignant words. You name it and I journal-screamed about it. Poverty, rich people, the state of the church, politics, the music industry, television, homelessness, homosexuality, grace, moral responsibility... But when I say un-preached, I don't mean that I've just not opened my mouth and talked about them. More that I've not really investigated them, researched them, learned, and validated a message. I think all of us have a dueling responsibility in this world. To preach the message in our hearts and listen and respond to the messages being preached by others. Each of us is given a passionate issue. Each of us needs to be brave enough to share.
~A lot of what I am, was not my original intention.
I wouldn't begin to suppose that I'm not exactly where God intends for me to be in my life right now. But if I had told that 21 year old missionary where I would be right now, and what I would be doing, I really think it would break her heart. I think she would be sad that more of her passions, more of her wishes weren't given more attention.
~Several several times I envisioned leaving everything behind.
I don't know if it was to comfort my heart in my 9-5 job. Or if it was a preface to a coming chapter. Maybe everyone does it. Or maybe it was a genuine desire that got lost in the long spread of days that got consumed with maintaining my life as it were. But there are many places where I will imagine what life would be like if I left everything I knew, just said screw it all...and set out on a journey solely to know people, love people and see the country. Whether it was living in a van among hippies at campsites, or hopping a boat to Africa to feed starving babies...It flares up in my heart like indigestion. No matter how grownup I get.
~I'm a crazy mad hugger.
I know this is a random one, but somewhere along the way I stopped hugging. There are actual journal entries where I would write about getting the "Best hug!" And feeling like I just needed to get to so and so and give them a good hugging. Unless I travel to see people I've not seen in a while, I give maybe 2 hugs a month and only as bookends to our time together. Never with intention.
~My biggest struggle has been with meaning.
I never wanted a job that didn't mean something. I always wanted to the meaning of certain events. I wanted to know why I was here. And at the bottom most ends of my emotional swings, I would be throwing my hands up saying, "Everything is meaningless"
So why does all of this matter? Well, frankly, I have been struggling lately with a lot of life things. I have spent the last few years straining and reaching for what I claim will make me happy and have ended up exhausted, and still not happy. I've wondered, Do we all do this? Do we all stress to chase the things that bring other people happiness? Is that why secretly we are all miserable and take so many anti-depressants and constantly believe that the grass is greener elsewhere? What if instead of believing commercials, or the neighbor next door we set out about believing what our own hearts say. What IF...What if we stopped caring about conventional society and started looking at what really makes us tick and just went for it? If we hungrily pursued the vision that God had for us as individuals, would everything blow up? Or would everything just end up feeling so right?
The interesting thing about having the last 12 years so heavily documented is that I get an insight into the themes of my character. Things that I said to myself at 21 I'm still saying to myself today. Dreams that I had at 25 popped back up again at 28, 30, 32...its a fascinating introspective retrospective.
I want to share with you some of the central themes I have come back to again and again.
~I hate dressing up.
It doesn't matter how old I am, or what it's for. I hate dressing up. I hate wearing nice shoes and matching things to other things and bedazzling myself. I like jeans. I like boots.
~I have a twisted relationship with music.
I love it. I hate it. I miss it. I crave it. I can't get enough of it. I hate to practice. I love music so much but not to the point that I could ever do it for a living. I like playing with other people in a format that I don't have to be super perfect. But I don't ever seem to practice. But time and time and time again, when life gets bad, or hard, or lonely, I always come back to it.
~I love getting dirty.
I would run to journal when I was a part of something that got my hands dirty. I love hard dirty work. Its awesome.
~Listening is my favorite thing.
I like being someone's sounding board, letting them ramble on and on and on and then offering one simple consoling piece of advice. Most of the highlights of my journals were triggered by people opening up to me, sharing their dreams, their vision, and their heartache.
~There are a lot of un-preached soapboxes in my heart.
There are pages and pages where my handwriting would get so feverish and my words get so big and I would be blistering a page with passionate or indignant words. You name it and I journal-screamed about it. Poverty, rich people, the state of the church, politics, the music industry, television, homelessness, homosexuality, grace, moral responsibility... But when I say un-preached, I don't mean that I've just not opened my mouth and talked about them. More that I've not really investigated them, researched them, learned, and validated a message. I think all of us have a dueling responsibility in this world. To preach the message in our hearts and listen and respond to the messages being preached by others. Each of us is given a passionate issue. Each of us needs to be brave enough to share.
~A lot of what I am, was not my original intention.
I wouldn't begin to suppose that I'm not exactly where God intends for me to be in my life right now. But if I had told that 21 year old missionary where I would be right now, and what I would be doing, I really think it would break her heart. I think she would be sad that more of her passions, more of her wishes weren't given more attention.
~Several several times I envisioned leaving everything behind.
I don't know if it was to comfort my heart in my 9-5 job. Or if it was a preface to a coming chapter. Maybe everyone does it. Or maybe it was a genuine desire that got lost in the long spread of days that got consumed with maintaining my life as it were. But there are many places where I will imagine what life would be like if I left everything I knew, just said screw it all...and set out on a journey solely to know people, love people and see the country. Whether it was living in a van among hippies at campsites, or hopping a boat to Africa to feed starving babies...It flares up in my heart like indigestion. No matter how grownup I get.
~I'm a crazy mad hugger.
I know this is a random one, but somewhere along the way I stopped hugging. There are actual journal entries where I would write about getting the "Best hug!" And feeling like I just needed to get to so and so and give them a good hugging. Unless I travel to see people I've not seen in a while, I give maybe 2 hugs a month and only as bookends to our time together. Never with intention.
~My biggest struggle has been with meaning.
I never wanted a job that didn't mean something. I always wanted to the meaning of certain events. I wanted to know why I was here. And at the bottom most ends of my emotional swings, I would be throwing my hands up saying, "Everything is meaningless"
So why does all of this matter? Well, frankly, I have been struggling lately with a lot of life things. I have spent the last few years straining and reaching for what I claim will make me happy and have ended up exhausted, and still not happy. I've wondered, Do we all do this? Do we all stress to chase the things that bring other people happiness? Is that why secretly we are all miserable and take so many anti-depressants and constantly believe that the grass is greener elsewhere? What if instead of believing commercials, or the neighbor next door we set out about believing what our own hearts say. What IF...What if we stopped caring about conventional society and started looking at what really makes us tick and just went for it? If we hungrily pursued the vision that God had for us as individuals, would everything blow up? Or would everything just end up feeling so right?
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