old journals, cemeteries, and... a question
Tonight, I'm coming out of blog-hiding to share something that I wrote a couple years ago and recently re-discovered in an old journal. The other night, as I was lying in bed, wrestling with unsettling thoughts and unable to sleep, I felt drawn to this old journal, which was tucked under my nightstand. I like journals, so I've had a lot. This one's only significance is that it's the only one in which I filled every page. Not that it's a great accomplishment, in the grand scheme of things, but if none of my other myriad journals survive, I hope this one does. It's the one that sounds most like who I'd like to be. It sounds like the me that I am when I let God take the controls. Some posts are not much more than rambling, some are troubled, some are angry, but they all have a stillness about them. Even those nights when I was upset about something, there was still a sense of knowing that God would see me through it. I remember it as a time of quiet c