Last night while I was cleaning out my closet I dove right into doing one of my favorite things; reading through my old journals and my old snail mail. I've kept every journal I've had since I was about 13-14 years old, as well as a big suitcase full of all my old cards from birthdays to "thinking-of-you's." I love going through my journals especially and either a) laugh at myself for the things I was worried about back then or b) check myself on the fact that I still am dealing with some of the same things that I need to break free from and address even now. It's funny because we will never stop going through tough times in life. Obviously, life isn't perfect and the world isn't a perfect place. I think sometimes we think we are entitled to that perfect life, free from the internal stress and worry that we so often allow to control our lives. But the reality is this: no, life isn't perfect, but through life's experiences we are given tools and keys to learn to break free and rise above. I think that's the beauty on being able to go back and reflect. I look and see so many areas where hard times were able to give me a new perspective; a new light was shed onto the issue. And there are also the times where I've looked back and I see that I'm still dealing with the same thing. It's in those areas that I realize I still need a new outlook; I still need to see why God's allowing this trial to persist. The trials are never to harm us or lead us to failure. Instead, they're areas where we can develop in our character and perseverance.
--This is an excerpt from a poem I wrote back in 2010. It's crazy that when I was reading this last night, I felt so many of the same emotions that I felt while I was writing this 2 years ago. To look back and be able to tell myself this now, especially while going through a similar season, is SUCH a breath of fresh air. * I apologize in advance for the one usage of profanity-- it should say "BS" instead of the actual word; I in no way want to condone cussing, but I wanted to be vulnerable and share this piece of me.*