This Book

Life is a classroom filled with many lessons. Some seasons are fascinating and quite fulfilling. Others are tough when life feels like an uphill battle. You feel like you are fighting to prove that you deserve a place here in this universe, while everything seems to be aligned against you. This was my world 22 years ago. This little notebook provided a safe place for me to journal then. A place to be raw, unfiltered and vulnerable. A place to be me – to maintain my sanity. When I couldn’t pray at times – I wrote letters to God. I am so happy He reads them. So grateful He allows me to be me. He listens to my fears, doubts, anger, and confusion. When I can’t verbally articulate – I write to a Father who even reads between the lines. The One who gets what I’m trying to say when words fail.

I have practiced to not ask God ‘why’ . I prefer to ask Him to help me to trust Him. Over time, I have also come to learn that I can ask God a question without questioning Him. Questioning His ways, His acts, or His will. This day in June of 2000 I needed to ask. From my little notebook:

I know my questions may seem out of place
You’ll probably never respond to some of them
But I can’t seem to help asking ‘why’
I know I may not get anywhere asking these ‘whys’
Somehow I can’t seem to help the pain that seers through me at times.
So I end up asking ‘why’
Don’t hold these seemingly endless cycle of questions against me
I know you know my heart and only You can search me
I know You will eventually ease the pain
Even if I never know ‘why’
‘Your questioning child’

Where do you go when the questions are more than the answers? I hope you have a safe place. A place where you are not afraid to ask the hard questions. A place where all the pretense flees and the masks come off. Where your heart is bare and open – naked and unashamed. I find that place at the feet of Jesus.

Sometimes He connects me with someone who just listens. Not giving answers or suggestions; just listens. Sometimes it may be that I need to be held. Or just to cry. We all need that place. That place where being me- being you, is enough. My little notebook still causes me to lose my breath at times when I see where God has taken me from. It bears witness of His relentless love and His endless grace. It is one of my memorial stones.

What do you have that bears witness to life’s journey? That can attest to the truth that you survived , you overcame, and are still standing.

***Thanks for reading. What’s your memorial stone? ‘Like’ and comment.