It's Random Journal Link-up Day. Apparently I didn't get the memo that today's the first day of February. This means two things: 1. Two posts from me today; 2. I have to go find a journal, open it and post what I find there. Hang on a minute, I'll be right back.
OK, I'm back. On the top of the pile (where my journals are at the moment, awaiting a shelf to be built to house them after we re-paint our bedroom), I picked up a notebook from 1985. Halfway through it, where I opened it, I came to an entry which is mind boggling in many ways. First, it's 18 months later; second, it's written in PENCIL, which is akin to...I don't know what but a giant no-no in my OCD journal-rules; and third, it's the last entry in this particular book, also a huge no-no.
But when I read it, it's all self-explanatory:
December 21, 1986
I barely know how to write. Sometimes that gnaws at me. It has lately. But I don't always know what to do to begin again. So I open these pages with trepidation. Perhaps I expect a symphony when I haven't even played chopsticks in a year. My hand scarcely knows how to hold a pen, cannot race across a page ahead of my consciousness,
I can write about a child's cry, about the agonizing frustrations of parenting as well as the awe-felt wonder. I still believe this life of mine is a GIFT--His specific gift for me--but it's also where I live and do the laundry. I doubt change can happen in the midst of squalor very easily. And I think there's squalor in my soul these days...but maybe that's the only place change has to start. It's just that my essence seems so much more superficial than I ever imagined.
I have a 17-month-old-bundle of life and a growing, kicking presence within to remind me of creation--His creation. In fact, they remind me of the Incarnation in the most dynamic way I've ever known. This is Christmas. I don't need cathedrals or candles or Christmas trees, because a baby's round-mouthed "Ooo" and shining starry eyes tell me exactly who the Father sent to earth. And at the same time, they remind me why I was born as well. It's for this moment. It doesn't have to be super-spiritual or super-deep. It's LIFE.