Doing what you say you will do....

Remember when we were little girls (forgive me, gentlemen, if you don't get to relate to this particular memory in my post...)...and we'd start these journals or diaries. "Dear Diary, my goal, my vow. I promise to write in you every day. One year from today you will see my story..my life. And you,  the reader will know I lived." Two months down the road, and you have forgotten all about that beautiful (and costly!?) little black, blue, green book. On to bigger and better things, like Michael Guzman from the 8th grade, who in the end didn't like you, but it seemed like he liked your friend Ellen, but you still kept in touch with him through college....(and incidentally, this would have made for a great journal/diary entry!) That book was supposed to be your mark on the world, even if no one read it but you. Here I sit, almost 15 years after a so called diary period in my life. I actually had a kept a good one one, successfully writing in it for almost a year...maybe more. But it wasn't really a diary for me...more like letters to God about my misdeeds and prayers. You see, back in high school, I was heavily, (and I do mean heavily) involved in my Church. Not that that should be a status of who you are. I was just really into my Church and my youth group, and my friends at youth group. Unfortunately, I also felt like I was into the Faith...and being Faithful became almost a game....I don't know...you always felt like you were trying to be more Faithful or Religious than someone else. I grew out of that thinking, that going to Church, and taking part in the groups, and meetings, and saying the right things...the belief that all those things are what made you a Christian and what made you good to God. When I went to college I learned that it's not those things that make you good for God.....it's the actual Faith you have...and the way you live your life according to that Faith.

Back to my journal....I wrote things in that book I was not proud of...things I had done to friends, that weren't nice. Sure I would sugar coat it, and use one word in place of the real words. I would write things in that book that shamed me. And I couldn't imagine anyone else reading it because those were my private words...my thoughts. My prayers to God. I remember I used to be SOOOO in love with a boy at my Church. And let's be real..I didn't love him...but was a PK (pastor's kid) and he was wayyyy cute...and everyone liked him. To boot..he was younger than me. He liked someone else..my friend...and I was crushed for awhile. But I used to write in that book..I used to pray in that book, to God. Pray to him and say, "Please let me stop liking him...I want to hang out with my friend and he's ALWAYS there..." it was crazy. I was so silly and boy crazy and silly...it's hard to imagine ourselves when are younger...when you think about what you will be like...but I look back on my life and I think about those diaires that we say we're going to finish. I finished mine. I feel like I wrote and wrote and wrote...and didn't really find any clarity or anything that revealed itself to me as a learning opportunity. Instead I just had this book that I carted off to college with me. I'd reread it now and again..and think about this boy and my friend..and think about the bad things I'd done. Things I won't reprint here because let's face it, who wants to relive their misdeeds.

When I moved here to California it was sort of an abrupt move. And right before, I was sick. I was sick for awhile. And I moved home from college with all my stuff, including that book. Then I left. I ran away to California to be with my mom and to have her heal me, like only mom's can do. She didn't heal me...but she did take me in until I got my own place. But sure enough, I left that diary, that journal at my dad's house. Shortly after my quickie move to the West Coast...he and my stepmom kind of went through my things and sorted through junk, which most of it was, and got rid of A LOT of stuff. I always ALWAYS wonder if they got their hands on my journal. Sure I wasn't thinking about that book when I went off to California...but I think about it now....did they read it? What did they think of the journal me...as opposed to the real me that didn't talk about what I wrote. Sure this might seem kind of a silly think to write about. But I do think about it...whether or not they read it....or if they saw it for the secret, private thing that I knew it to be.

I guess what I mean is...I did what I said I would do..to my journal. I kept it. I wrote everything in it. Things I wasn't proud of, things I was proud of. And my transition from child to woman is in that book. My belief structure change is in that book. Where I see what I want to be, and who I want to be....I would give anything to get my hands on that...Because sometimes I really miss feeling that faithful about something. Sure..I believe. I have Faith. But when you are younger it was easier to make you feel more ALIVE...more rejuvinated. Because your "cup" was smaller...as an adult my "cup" is bigger, and it takes longer to fill....But thats ok. That's what makes God great...my cup is still pretty big, but these day's it fills up easier because I have more to be thankful for, more to be faithful to.