I love to write in my journal. I’m pretty sure I’ve kept a journal since I could hold a pencil in my hand. I’ve even posted a picture of the entry I wrote after the first time I hung out with Jimmy. I have a collection of colored and patterned notebooks that are filled with notes from when I’m meditating on scripture, drawings in the margins, stickers, pictures, and thoughts on what was going on in my life at the time.

Sometimes, when I’m feeling reflective, I’ll pull out an old journal and flip through it. Occasionally, I’ll find one of my well-loved and tattered journals with the same month or date, and I’ll read up on what I was doing one, two, or seven years ago this month. It’s kind of astonishing how much I forget.
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