Love Letters

I love to journal. Perhaps you are old enough to remember when it was called "keeping a diary". I still remember my diary with its little lock. I have no idea whatever happened to it. That place as a preteen and then teen that I wrote down my deepest thoughts. It was always a fear that someone would look in it and perhaps see into my mind and heart where I didn't want others to go.

Married, I had moved away from the diary and into journaling. I still hoped no one would invade my privacy, like this new husband. I'm pleased to share that even after 40 years of marriage my husband has respected my privacy. Last year, 2017, I decided to dedicate my daily journaling to him. I wrote in it the entire year knowing that on New Years Day 2018 I would give it to him as a gift to read. I must admit it scared me a little as I had determined to be transparent and not change the way I journal just because I knew he would be reading it a year later. I imagined him reading each day and getting to know me a little better (the good and the bad) with each entry.

He was THRILLED when I presented it. I kept it a secret the entire year so he had no idea what I had planned to do. Each day he read an entry. Even the prayers I wrote when I asked God to give him the desires of his heart. And, the times I wrote how mad he made me for whatever. I was nervous as I couldn't remember exactly what I might have written a year prior. How would he take it? Would he be hurt? Some days I was afraid to ask what I wrote about.

Each day I came home I would look to see where the journal was laying. I knew by the movement of it that he had read it that day. It was like my heart was laying on those pages, waiting to be picked up and read. Then, I noticed that the journal stopped moving from place to place. It was like it wasn't being picked up at all. Today, August 11, I took a peak and saw that it was still open to May 15, 2017.

He hasn't read it for THREE MONTHS! My heart is broken. So much love poured out over 365 days only to see it gathering dust on the shelf.

Head hung low I went for a bike ride. My sadness turned to anger. I prayed to God and asked why He motivated me to do this crazy thing. To take a risk with my heart that feels like it is just being discarded. It was in that moment of self pity that an image came to my mind.

I saw it like it was right in front of me.

On a shelf, not to far from that neglected journal was my Bible. Just sitting there gathering dust. It was the "grandma Bible" I purchased in 2013. I had decided I would read through it and write notes or thoughts for my grandson Linus. I figured it would take a about a year if I really made it a priority. Then, I would do the same for each grandchild God blessed us with after Linus.

Guess when the last time was that I picked that book up? Three months ago? Not even close. It was January 21, 2018. SEVEN MONTHS AGO! And, in 5 years I am only in 2 Kings. The Bible is God's "love letter" to me. He inspired each word that is recorded and the writing of it spans about 2,000 years. From cover to cover it is an amazing writing that starts with "In the beginning" and ends with "The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all. Amen".

In between, there is story after story of redemption, leading up to the ultimate sacrifice of God's own Son. God's very heart exposed in the pages. He wants nothing more than for me to spend time reading it and learning from it. Yet, where is it? On the shelf gathering dust.

My pity party is now over. My 365 days of writing and Gary's 3 months of not getting around to reading it can't hold a candle to God's Word and how long He waits for me to pick it up.

Time to go. I have something I need to do.