I finished a journal today. Number 84. I filled its last pages with stories of being home with my beautiful sons and thoughts of what our third son will bring to our little family. As I closed it, I thought it would be interesting to read where I was when it started, back in May 2010. The first page was so eloquent, I thought I ought to share it.
"Journal,
It always feels so good to start a new journal. Like I'm setting out on a journey, and you (the reader) have the privilege of know the ending (should you choose to skip ahead) while I (the writer) see nothing yet. The back of this book is empty. It holds no stories, no joy, no heartache. Blank space- in which to record life's happenings."
It always feels so good to start a new journal. Like I'm setting out on a journey, and you (the reader) have the privilege of know the ending (should you choose to skip ahead) while I (the writer) see nothing yet. The back of this book is empty. It holds no stories, no joy, no heartache. Blank space- in which to record life's happenings."
It's amazing to me because this particular journal does hold heartache. Such heartache. And joy. Such joy. It holds the journey of Josh graduating from college and not finding the job we had so prayed would come. It holds the journey of me going back to work this fall and facing the devastation of leaving my kids for yet another school year. It holds the journey of my second pregnancy and our third child. It holds the joy (absolute joy) of my becoming a stay-at-home-mom.
I have had very few dreams in my life.
And those I had were very simple:
- Graduate from college with a bachelors degree
- Marry my best friend
- Have children
- Be a stay-at-home-mom
All of my dreams have come true.
It doesn't get any better than that.
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