I got my first diary for my tenth birthday. It was pink with a lock and key. On the front was a little fairy with wings. I would pretend that she carefully guarded my secrets that only a diary knows. She defended the deepest parts of my heart from the curious eyes of many sisters. I loved my diary and there seemed to be something special about writing down the thoughts and ideas that seemed to whirl in my young mind.
For many years I lived life without writing down. Maybe I did not want the risk of another reading my deepest thoughts. Maybe I was just too busy. Maybe I just didn’t think it was important enough to write it all down. For years I stopped writing.
During the darkest days of my life, a friend suggested I keep a diary. Those unspeakable fears that gripped my mind and heart found their way onto paper. Slowly I began to write what was going on in my mind. I learned a truth during that utterly dark time, and it was this: fears are the most terrifying when they are allowed to roam free in the mind. Lies of Satan seem so real you swear they are the truth, until the pen and paper meet. As the fears and lies find their way onto the pages of my journal their power is diffused.
I discovered that journaling was a powerful tool in the fight for my sanity. I wrote down the fears whenever they struck me. Somedays, in sheer desperation, my journal was a gum wrapper or torn receipt at the bottom of my bag. Suddenly, I could talk to God through my diary. I was able to tell Him the things my mouth could not utter. How absolutely freeing!
Today I have been healed from the darkness of that season for which I give all glory to my Healer. Those memories are left as a tabernacle on the pages of an old red leather journal. Sometimes I read it and cry, thanking God for doing what only a trial can bring forth in a life. I carried with me from those days, my journal. Today I journal mostly when I talk to God, but sometimes I simply journal my thoughts and fears. I write down feelings on special days, sad days, days I see God move in His miraculous ways.
There is no need for a lock and key these days. Wayne knows almost all my thoughts, and with him I have no secrets.
And this is a journal of sorts. You are, dear reader, my diary. I tell you the inconsequential details of my life. Not so much because you care, or need to know, but mostly for me. You see journaling is medicine, and for the cost of a paper and pen, it can free your mind and heal your soul.