I started a new journal this morning. This is one of my favorite things to do. I love choosing a new one at the bookstore, this time going with a fabric cover pulsing with gorgeous, gentle hues and flowers that will make me smile every time I reach for it.
This was my first entry today:
“Good morning, Jesus. How I love starting a journal all fresh, even in a long, slow, hard season when there are no clean slates coming in my actual life anytime soon.”
I can see a fresh start or two down the road for me…if I squint. So for now, as my soul craves a good shaking the dust off, I am creating a few of my own, albeit tiny and self-made, as in the journal for example.
Or, throwing everything out in my house that isn’t nailed down. (My kids better be on high alert.) I pick something up, look at it, and say outloud, “ruthless”, then I toss it into a huge plastic bag. I even burned a bunch of stuff last night. Totally fun and cleansing. I highly recommend burning things. But that’s probably for another post. Or a therapy session.
For me, part of getting ready for the new is looking back at the old. I spent a couple hours rummaging through my hope chest last night. I read letters and cards from my courtship, from my high school best friend, from my grandparents who are both now gone, from my birthday this past year, from my children. I looked at photos and first attempts at publication. I let my gaze linger on artwork from my kindergarten son and journals from college. Today, I’m going to repurpose a collection of essays from the past ten years, and attempt to give it new life.
And tomorrow, well, tomorrow, I’ll tackle my closet. And perhaps burn some more of my stuff. I’ll get a clean slate or two if it’s the last thing I do.