I am not a journal-er. I've always wanted to be because there is something romantic about it and my own sentimentality loves the idea of having a record of my life. I think ultimately the biggest hurdle for me is getting quiet enough to do it and the fear of someone else reading my inner most thoughts.
During this season marked by the repercussions of Covid-19, I've dabbled in some journaling. Really I'm just trying to offload the overwhelming emotions that begin to suffocate me if I don't and I do like the idea of making notes of the little everyday things that I know I will forget filled our days years from now.
So today was a day I sat down to process some things and flipped through what I've written over the last few months. January was a hard month. One of my best friends was diagnosed with breast cancer, LAS was really sick with the flu, Reese caught it, and I had cancel a trip and reschedule it. I wrote about how abnormal the month was and all of my feelings there in. And then I wrote something that is wild in light of the life we're all living today. A life I had no idea we would be experiencing. I've included it below:
Normal days are a gift. They don't feel like it. They feel rote, boring. But a taste of the bad kind of abnormal will send you longing for days when people are healthy and whole and unremarkable things abound.
Even the good kind of abnormal--vacations, opportunities, trips--aren't sustainable. Eventually we long for that which is normal. The funny thing is everyone's normal is different but it's comforting all the same. You know where you stand and what's next. But normalcy doesn't generally produce much trust in God or much perseverance. In fact, sometimes normal makes us think we've got it all together. Here's to appreciating the normal days and seeking God there and being thankful for the abnormal ones where we look to Him because He's really all we have.
Okayyyyy January Betsy. My "journaling" is rarely eloquent and never neat. And the only explanation for this little glimpse of life then and life now is the prompting of the Holy Spirit. When I look back at our crappy January I know now God was just beginning the process of stripping away comforts and normalcy to prepare us for days ahead when the longing for the uneventful would be stronger than ever. And when I am overwhelmed by the trajectory of this year for myself and others and I'm overwhelmed with decisions about where to go and who to see and what's safe, I look to the One who is a safe harbor and who, in His kindness, has prepared my heart for a time such as this and isn't the least bit surprised by any of it.