Sweet peace. That is what filled my heart during the last hour of Relief Society today. We were discussing the renewal of life that the Savior offers us every week through the sacrament. Flipping through my journal during the lesson and I found this entry that I'd like to share. I testify that the hope I mention is possible because of the sacrifice offered by Jesus Christ.
~August 26, 2016~
Here we are on the last day of summer. It really does feel as if the words are already written on these pages before I get to them. But they are not really. Which pages will be scribbles of barely contained excitement, and which of methodical exploration of thought? Will a tear mar a corner or will ticket stub fill the page? What new names will be introduced, and which will stop appearing? Are there opportunities and changes that I cannot now expect resting between the trees? Probably. Frustrations, joys, boredoms, new ideas, confusion, discovery; all of it awaits is place on a line.
But the joy in all of that comes from hope. Hope that whatever words become appropriate to detail my life, there is always a fresh page with new words. Another day, another change, another realization. The ferocity of my strokes doesn't stay constant for very long. These days keep on surprising me and giving way to prose I never intended. And then at my man-made turning points, I read over the words as they sit in past, unchanging but not without life. They still hold the feeling, the sights, the whole significance of that day. My feelings remain very much alive on the paper. How true was Lewis when he said,
'Isn't it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back everything is different.'
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