Now, this may not seem like a huge deal, but trust me, it is. For the past thirteen years, I have owned dozens of pretty journals, notebooks, and diaries, starting them and losing interest after a few weeks. Or simply moving onto a new one with the beginning of a new year. But never completing one, filling every page.
Until now, that is.
And I've done it. This journal has been my companion for the past 17 months. It contains countless smiles, pain-filled questions, meaningful Bible verses, letters that will never be read, confused ramblings, elated recounts, homesick memories, prayers of thanksgiving, excited plans, friends of all sorts, anguished tears, and everything in-between. It's pages and pages and pages of me.
(now on to the next one, and all that it will soon hold)
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