Last night, Lily and I dug up all of my old journals. She's dying to read them. There's 21 of them, and I have no idea what all is in there. May not be, probably definitely not, age appropriate. So I told her she can read them when she's the same age I was when I wrote them.
Kind of funny just glancing through them. I have the ones where I was experimenting with colored pencils and drawing... I have always loved a good stationery store, and fine pens. You can see that in the old journals, the phases of loving to write in green ink, the ink cartridge and calligraphy-tipped pen, the super-fine pink felt-tip pen.
In keeping with looking for joy in struggles--looking for joy in growth that comes from struggles--I do believe there has been growth over the years. There is evidence in my journals. I am not where I was in 1986, 1993, or even 2012. Praise the LORD!
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