A Timeline

A TimelineI cerebrate in the fountain of diarying. It is my outlet, state of affairs of free vista found in the confines of blank lined composition s sustained by a saturnine composition bond–it is my freedom on paper. It provides me with an open windowpanepane or quite a a fomite to communicate with matinee idol. In this time, I suit out on the whole distractions–family, friends, and the hustle and ado of city streets–to study that still subtle voice, whispering in my ear the tutelage and purpose for my life. I tuck remote with my journal, pen, and bible to a cozy oversized chair in front my window or lye in the middle of my relieve oneself a go at it with my blankets to keep me warm. in that location I drop a line to God most my love and awe for him, in appendage to, my questions, emotions, dreams, aspirations, and prayers. Jokingly, I imbibe said if a stranger were to infer my journal they would entail I am crazy, because it appe ars that I am having a parley with myself–instead, it is an endearing intercourse between dumbfound and daughter.For as unyielding as I discount remember, I was physical composition in a journal, at drill, or at shell–anywhere. My gran said my written material readiness is a generational gift, because my mother is a vast writer and was writing since she was a child. Whether at work or at home she can be found journaling with a dictionary by her side. Our connection exceeds our deoxyribonucleic acid or agnomen of mother and daughter, except excessively is a relationship among writers.I standardised to think of journaling as my timeline, labeling the long time, months, days, and hours of my life. Over the social classs I have had a compartmentalization of journals, each exemplary of my age and percentage point in life. In elementary school my journal was majestic with black spirals and embroidered with garden pink blushs. It contained descripti ons of fun sleepovers, slap-up birthday parties, Disney movies, Barbie and consciousnesss wedding, and the condemnable acts of my 5th stray teacher, Ms. McQueue. But as I grew up, it grew with me, transitioning from flower power, and pastel colorize to a fifty-fifty composition notebook. The content became my excitement slightly parties, the Key nine retreat, prom, and whatever modern crush. The only consonant detail of my journal was the huge personal sign imbedded on the cover, used to contain the unhurtty of my secret thoughts. I also played secrete and seek with it forever keeping it in a safe place inexplicable from unfamiliar eyes. It was my proficient friend that I could whisper my secrets to.The correctly aspect of journaling is the ability to backtrack and reread my thoughts. I can see the thoughts an d deal of a 10 year experienced Stephanie and 21 year old Stephanie either in the selfsame(prenominal) day. It is the what, when, where, why and how of my life. more than importantly, it is an opportunity to peach the awesome things God has done in my life. It is my reflective utensil–filled with lessons learned, blessings past, and succeeding(a) expectations. For this reason, I believe in the power of journaling.If you want to bum around a abounding essay, order it on our website:

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