One Sunday night,our pastor, Pete, brought in a few of his old journals.
He talked about reflection and how good it is to look back at all God has done throughout our lives.
He encouraged us to dig up old journals if we had them. To start journaling if we weren’t already. Michael said when we got in the car that the message was
obvious. That this is what I should be dong with all my time until we leave.
He had no idea I had journals going back twenty-two years.
I have never gone back to read them.
The memories of some years I just wasn’t sure I could re-live, or re-tell.
I was stymied.
I moved them.
I moved them again.
Then again.
There are many of them and they are all sizes, shapes and types of bindings.
Moving that many, that many times with my hands was not easy.
Neither was the thought of going back in time, to whoever I was then.
I took days to get through some. Others I read quickly.
All of it I remembered clearly.