As a lover of words, journaling has grown from a habit to an absolute love of mine.
I daydream about a time to come, when I no longer walk the earth, but generations after me read my words, laugh at my little jokes and snicker at seemingly trivial mistakes I made.
I am on the prowl for a journal almost as much as I am in search of a good book to read. My discretion in choosing a journal comes down to – how much it weighs in my hand or pocket book, how it lays when open, spacing of lines on the page and my absolute favorite, a ribbon book mark to mark the page. Price is a consideration but what my heart is set on typically makes it to my desk.
The last search for a journal took me to the shelves of Barnes and Nobles. I picked one up larger than my usual and would be a challenge to complete. Bonus– this one had two ribbon bookmarks in it! Being reasonably priced with wide ruled lines to hold all my loopedy loos, perfect. A last flip through the pages, excited to record my start date, I found an issue. Perforated pages. Each page of this journal could easily be torn out. Tear out a journal page?
How could one EVER rip out a page of a journal? Of history? What a silly idea. Mistakes make looking back at life worth walking through it, right? Whether it is scratched out, wrinkled from tears or coffee spills, or the drawings of my sweet Eliza. You can’t just rip those out of life!
Disgust on my face, I dropped the journal back to its home on the shelf. I continued my search.
Too heavy. Yuck, college ruled. Too awkward, won’t lay flat. I love the sayings but would feel compelled to write a response to the saying rather than what is truly going on in my heart. Too flimsy.
My heart was drawn back to the journal with perforated pages. It was my favorite color and all and had two ribbon bookmarks.
Perhaps I will try it DESPITE the perforated pages. Simply because I can cleanly rip out a page does not mean I have too.
Never would I have spent another meaningless thought on the perforated pages of a simple journal, except…. Buddy and I took the girls to see a movie. War Room. Have you seen it?
A moving, real to life story filled with crazy mistakes we have all made, lines crossed, broken hearts. Instead of believing the lies skittering along the surface leaving us feeling as though the ground is moving, this story gives a different option. Prayers laden with a laser focus on exactly who or what our true enemy is. Words as weapons unveiling truth beneath the messes we get ourselves involved in.
Certainly no spoiler here, the War Room is the main character’s prayer closet. Walls covered with torn out pages of strategies in prayer, attacking the enemy. Walls covered with torn out pages.
Could something as trivial as perforated paper be an example of divine intervention?
What if the perforated page is a whisper from God –“Erin, tear your prayers out of the book and make them alive. See how faithful I am, see how I am your defender, how I provide for you. Take them with you wherever you go today.”
These days I feel as though I am in the last treacherous moments of a lifeguard test treading water and the instructor laid a brick on my head.
When are things going to slow down? When is the load going to get lighter? There has got to be a different way about this….
There is, says the Lord, Perforated Pages. Rip those journal pages full of prayer and live them out. I will answer.”