A New Page

I love the pure feeling of holding a new journal in the hands, awaiting words, craving feelings, possibilities endless.

And this is the first time I have written, really written, in quite some time. Really written raw. Written no more than unadulterated feelings, simply prayers in ink.

There is something so inspiring about the fresh first page of a journal. As if my story starts anew today. Fresh introductions, not tainted by judgments made, no baggage piled high on an aching back. Open hands, open heart.


But I will not lie for this beginning. I come with baggage upon baggage, feeling swollen and worn out from a sprint of a recovery from anorexia; feeling restless awaiting a new life at a new school, a realization of purpose with dreams of a new career; feeling the viscous sting of inadequacy in my faith, not praying right, not being real enough, not being sweet enough to be a sweet smelling sacrifice, nor light enough to be a child of the light.

Messy me.

Here's the beauty of a first page though: it's not that there's nothing behind that first page, but there are blank pages of possibility to explore hereafter. Adventures of pen and page as they battle demons of the heart, igniting new bravery as discoveries flourish.

And the beauty of a life in Him: every day is a new page. 

"The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease.

Great is His faithfulness; His mercies begin afresh each morning."

-Lamentations 3:22-23 (NLT)

My greatest craving as I dive into this journal white and lines bare: to fall more in love with a Savior, to reveal all to Him unrestrained, knowing no thing I could do will ever change the nature of His sweet love, to search for Him and find Him in new and lovely ways, to reignite my close relationship kindled on pages past and days delightful.

Be filled with joy.

It is written on the cover bright and buoyant. I want that joy. I want to know the joy of God. To figure out who I am in Him and dance in the knowing of being lost in His presence.