The other night while I was getting ready for bed, I decided it was time to organize my night stand a little bit. It was beginning to look like that one drawer in the kitchen that gets stuffed with all the extra utensils you don’t know what to do with. Need a rubber band? Some super glue? A screwdriver? “Have you tried that drawer in the kitchen yet?” Well, that kitchen drawer has a cousin upstairs in my nightstand.
While I was organizing, or rather shuffling stuff into neater piles of stuff, I ran across an old journal of mine from several years ago. The cover was tattered and a little beat up due to the years of night-stand abuse. Feeling somewhat bad for my old friend, I picked the book up and stared at it for a little bit. I must admit that I was somewhat afraid to open the book and read the contents. I don’t know why our past thoughts and observations can be embarrassing, but they are. Moments we cried over in the past can seem insignificant when they are looked back on. I was nervous to even think about what sort of things I had written down, and even more nervous to relive some of those old emotions all over again.
With butterflies turning over in my stomach, I cracked open the bound pages. Falling out was a black and white photo strip that was taken of Julie and I one Christmas in one of those photo booths where you can pose in 4 funny poses. Dated on the back, I looked at the photo and then glanced in the mirror. I didn’t think I looked that much older now– which is a good thing I guess. I also took note that I am every bit as happy and stoked with my marriage. We will be kids forever I am sure.
I turned to read the pages of the book. I had reflected about job changes that happened eons ago. I had recorded times of hardship, times of laughter, reminisced about friendships, talked about the hobbies I was into, cried over deaths, and pondered the spiritual.
I turned a couple of pages and found a full day-by-day recount of a trip Julie and I took to New Zealand several years ago. Complete with names of places, what we did, what we ate, who we met, funny stories and observations of each day. The detail was incredible, and I don’t even remember writing a journal while we were there. I called Julie over, where for the next 40 minutes, I read the day-by day account of the best vacation we have ever taken. Complete from leaving the US, to arriving back in San Diego two weeks later, I read it all.
When I was finished, I looked up and both Julie and I had tears in our eyes. It was as if God gave us our vacation all over again. We relived every moment, and remembered things we had long forgotten even from the photographs.
We fell asleep in each other’s arms that night and felt so blessed that we have been able to experience such amazing things together. I am so happy that I wrote about it all while it was happening.
I often think about the gift the apostles left us when they wrote the Bible and recorded the things about Jesus’ life. It was also a journal left for us to discover and re-live history. If I have ever needed a reason to continue writing, this week has shown me allot. I hope that this blog, and the works Christ does in my life surpass the threads of time, and live on to bless many well into the future.
God continues to write the story….