reimagine
By four years old, I knew in my heart that I wanted 3 things: I wanted to be a nurse, a mother, and a wife. I wanted them pretty much in that order-I was four years old, wisdom or experience clearly wasn’t available yet.
At nine years old, my babysitter gave me my first journal-just a simple, small, dime store journal that I could hide my hopes and dreams, fears and horrors-safely held under lock and key. As space ran out, I moved to a spiral notebook or any loose paper available. I’d doodle and jot words to outlet what I didn’t know how to say out loud. Little oozes of lead safely harbored on paper.
As it became apparent to me that becoming a nurse, mother, and wife would include struggle, the journals sharing my aches stacked higher as life threw punches down.
Undiagnosed adhd made meant working harder just to keep up. Hearts not knowing how to articulate meant multiple marriage counselors. Infertility tried to keep motherhood just out of reach. Each four year old dream of mine became a hard surrendering crawl toward faith. Through it all, pen and paper anchored undeserved amazing grace.
Pen and paper never judge-they illuminate.
They show our hearts desperately grasping and cherishing meaning and hope. No matter the storms that saturate us, our hearts, oozed onto a page, show we were here, we lived, we tried, we loved, we lost, we won, we’re still standing.
Journals, piled two waists high, tucked in the corner of a closet, haven’t completed their journey. More will slowly and steadily join them. Together, they tell the story of a shy little girl a bold soul. They ache. They pulse. They raise fists to the sky. They bow low in prayer, and they share a legacy of how that same girl was never the same. She surrendered to share the words she’d hidden for three decades.
A few weeks after joining HopeWriters, I read through a group thread. Maria Fonseca shared words that became my motto: “God heals our memories.” Four words that invigorate me daily. Four words that helped me reimagine. Four words that caused me to pull out the journal from when I was nine years old. Four words that reminded me, it’s okay to share. A message that you started walking out, with no wisdom or experience at four years, may be what God was preparing you for all along.
