So it's not really a secret that Jesus and I have not been connecting lately? Okay, really it's just me not connecting to him. Of course,I know that the second I lift the embargo, the flood gates will open, but for some reason I'm keeping him at bay. I wish I could say that it wasn't for a lack of trying, but I can't, so we'll move on.
On my recent trip to Georgia, I left my Bible and journal in my in-law's car. I promise, it wasn't on purpose. My Mother-in-law, being the sweetheart that she is, boxed them up and shipped them off. Ironically, they never got here. I shudder at even the thought of a postal worker reading my prayer journal. All my deepest, darkest secrets in one place, exposed? Ouch! Granted, my life is a wee bit boring for deep, dark secrets, but the point is that they're my thoughts, my prayers, my insights...and now, they're gone. It's funny how I could go a week or so without even thinking about my journal, but now that it's gone, it's all I think about. Alright, maybe not all, but still!
All of a sudden, I find myself desiring to journal, but I don't have one. It's almost like a pregnancy craving, the kind that you'll do anything to satisfy. I tried just grabbing a pad of paper, but the perfectionist in me (I know, right?) just wouldn't allow me to start writing. It felt too open, unsafe. Where would I put it when I was done? What if I lost it? How would I keep them in sequential order? I know it sounds weird, but I've always been a journaler, even before they were prayers. Every now and then I like to sit down and read back over the years, to see how far I've come and how far I have to go. It's almost like a chronicle of my walk with God. When we moved to Maryland, I somehow misplaced several years worth of journals. I felt like I'd lost a huge chunk of my life.
I could always tell where I was with God based on the dates in my journal. When I was journaling every day, it was clearly a sign of good times with Jesus. The farther they got apart, the more I could tell I was depending on my own strength, allowing the muck of life to get in the way. Lately, the dates could sometimes span weeks instead of days. Sure, some of it it busyness or just getting out of the habit, but somewhere in me is a lack of desire to spend time with God...possibly even a conscious decision. Am I mad? Or hurt? Probably a little of both, and even though I know that none of it is God's fault per say, I'm guessing he's the easiest target.
My mission for the day? Find a new journal and force myself to sit down and work through these emotions that are clogging up my stairway to heaven. There can only be so many excuses.
And if you happen to be a postal worker in some post office between Grovetown, GA and Catonsville, MD and see a couple of books lying around without a home, just send them on up here, especially if one happens to be a small, blue Bible and the other, a partially written-in journal. I'll even reward you with a Starbucks card or two. I would put up a bigger reward, but then I might receive every lost book in America. And since I don't read much, that wouldn't be too much fun for me. Though I could start my own book drive and donate them to a local library.
If you're a praying person, then I covet your prayers. I want to get back to that place where I actually communed with God on a daily basis, where He was my source of life, my daily bread. And though I know that buying a new journal won't solve all my problems, it's a start.
I'm Not A Stalker, Just A Fan
1 year ago