Reflections
Each year as my birthday comes and goes, I take a significant amount of time reflecting on the past, present, and what is to come. Periodically a sense of nostalgia comes over me as I smell a familiar scent or hear a song that takes me to another place. These moments lead me to recall old memories, some joyous, others despairing. Recently I has one of these occasions as I began to read past journal entries.Journaling for me has become one of my most treasured activities. It is a place that I bear my soul, process through emotions, and pray. Most of it is prayer. I write these letters to God of my pain, frailty, and my lack of understanding the mystery. I pour out my love, gratitude, and desire...passionate letter after passionate letter. In these letters I record not only my own voice but the voice of the One who weeps with me, laughs with me, and renews hope within my feeble heart.
When I was in middle school I had a diary. I was good about writing in it. It always felt funny to write my thoughts, activities, and emotions to "Diary". It was pointless to me. I remember at slumber parties we used to read each others diaries if we were "best friends"....only your BF could know the intimate details about you. I remember some of the things I used to read, " We went to the mall today," or "I really want a new phone,"...mine were always something about a boy. "I really wish Josh McDonald would be my boyfriend." Josh McDonald was my sixth grade crush who did not have a clue as to who I was until 7th grade when I became popular. Look back at those times, now at 26, I wish I would have kept those old pages. To be able to see the reality of middle school dating rearing it's ugly head again almost 15 years later would be humbling. Girls, I don't think we ever grow out of our girly middle school phase. We still ask each other info about what the boy said, we still get all stupid and googly, and we still think that the world would be complete if we just had "the boy." I'll try not to continue with this tangent and save it for the book. There is still something very sacred about the contents of a diary/journal that even only your closest friends are able to know your thoughts. Even with that said I only read excerpts from my journals to my most intimate friends...which consists of 2-3 people. And with that there is only one person who I would let hold the treasured contents and read it for themselves(you know who you are). It is a very very intimate thing.
Over almost 9 years I have written in everything from notebooks, cutesy journals from Old Navy, to napkins from coffee shops. I am somewhat of a minimalist so everything that is not being used is in the trash or on the way to the Goodwill...but never my old papers. There are moments, emotions, and journeys recorded in these books that would make an excellent made for T.V. movie. I read my earliest prayers and note that everything is flowery and pretty using big words like majesty, king of kings, and holy of holies. Over the years this was toned down as I grew in my relationship with God to words like my friend, my father, with the occasional king thrown in. Then there were the crying out for God years...that is where my pain began to seep into my view of God. My self-inflicted wounds causing me to to question whether or not he was there. My faith diminishing under the weight of disbelief, so I yelled, screamed, and cursed at God. He became at that point a comforter, lover, and a savior in a way I had not understood and still am trying to comprehend today.
Now I look back at my life over the last 10 years and I see that it is good. I struggle with my desire to be all that I aspire to be , yet all that He has created me to be...eventually I will grasp that these coincide. I see the person that I am becoming and it excites me. Not because of anything that I have achieved, but because I can see the miracle within me. I see the person I was, I am, and who I am becoming and I am awed by the work of his hand. Who ever thought he would take a snobby materialistic girl and change me into who I am being molded into?
I look over my relationships and am awed. I think back to years past and all of my friendships were somewhat superficial. This year brought some relationships to a close, but by the closing it brought a depth of love and understanding to some that lacked. It also brought the emotional availability to invest in new friendships. My friend Matt, who I would say is my best friend, has taught me new things that I never thought I could learn. We have fought over everything there is to fight over, disagreed on everything, and for a period of time could not stand each other. I have a greater understanding of fighting for people in relationships because he fought for me. He did not give up and now he is reaping the fruit of his hard labor...I am no longer a bitch(most of the time). I guess that is a miracle...he would say so. My friends Trissa, Julie, and Curtis have all had a hand in shaping me into the person that I am becoming. Entry after entry usually includes something that one of them has said to encourage, stimulate, or piss me off. It is so good.
These are pictures that were taken from my 26th birthday party. The picture with Trissa, Alicia, Matt and I, is my favorite. Allisha and Matt both helped out tons to get the party ready. They both know how stressed out I get at events that I am planning and so they were right there keeping me together. About an hour before the party Matt took over and finished getting things ready while I got dressed. Trissa and Jon arrived about a 1/2 hour later and Jon(who is not familiar with my pre-party stress) said, "Someone get this girl a drink." Trissa replied, "This is just how she is before the party. As soon as people begin to arrive she will be a completely different person...laughing, enjoying herself." She was right. It is so nice to have people in your life that know you so well. These relationships continue to go through trials and tribulations and each time we all learn a new meaning for words like love, forgiveness, understanding, and compassion. I am the person I am because of the people that play the part they are supposed to play in the symphony of life. Each instrument, each note being played, sometimes not harmoniously, but after much practice and devotion...the music is played and flows into the beautiful melodies that are intimate relationships.
posted by Kat @ 9:04 AM
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