Journal Writing Has Blessed My Life

Journal writing has been in my life since ten years old (35 years!) I was given my first journal from a girl named Tammy, who lived with our family. I believe she felt prompted to give me the journal and it was a tender mercy from the Lord. He knew my heart and that I would need a way to express myself. My journal has been my 'listening friend' for many years. Clarity comes to my mind when writing my thoughts and feelings.

I have 23 journals now and one is digital and includes six years. My past journals tell me different times in my life. They document history as well as say, "I existed." They include some of my hopes and dreams in words and sometimes pictures. They also include things important to me at the time. Journal's can be anything from books to notepads. Basically, a physical journal is a group of paper and an online journal is program that keeps the things you saved.

Keeping a journal is an individual thing. Some people use it as a diary (I went here, then there...) and some people use it to record their thoughts and feelings. Truly, I believe there's no correct way to keep a journal the only guideline I can give is, 'have one'.

My Last Handwritten Journal

I came across the last journal I ever hand wrote (from Oct 6, 2009 to March 21, 2010). It's not very long so I decided to transcribe it to MSWord. (Also, the typed words are easier to read.) During this journal is when I decided to write online. I stopped writing for months in 2010 (because I hated my handwriting), but eventually I decided to write online because I missed the therapeutic force I felt from writing in my journal.

I thought I missed hand writing but it turns out that I missed expressing myself. There are many ways to write and I learned that writing online meant just as much to me as writing with a pen. Yes, I miss my handwriting but I'm grateful that I can still write even though I no longer hand write.

Maybe my handwriting wasn't supposed to last for my entire life. I was happy with hand writing in my journal because I'd done it for years, but I have to say that now that I've written online for years, I like writing electronically so much better. Why? Because I can backspace a word and say what I truly mean (nothing is ever set in stone), because I can go back and edit technical flaws (editing is never done!), and because I can write either from my computer or from my iPad (I don't have to be in a certain place).

Like I said before, sometimes I miss my nice handwriting but life evolves and we progress. I'm just glad that I can say what's on my mind.

I've Done It!

Well folks, it's done! I've typed my Grandma Clark's journal of her trip to Europe in 1958. If you want to read it click here. If you want to read what the speakers said at the London Temple dedication click here.

I've gotten to know Gma Clark through her words. The trip lasted for three months and let me know Gma's personality. What I noticed while typing at the end is how much Gma Gordon's (her daughter) handwriting and hers were alike. At one point I thought I was reading Gma Gordon's handwriting. Gma Clark was a remarkable woman and it makes me want to read the other things she wrote.

Journaling is Important

I have a journal from 1958 that belonged to my Great-Grandma Clark. As I've read her words they have allowed me to know her more than just her name and the dates when she was born, married, and died. Her journal has also let me know her character and the kind of person she was.

During that trip in 1958 she:

• Sailed from America to England on the Queen Mary
• Met some of her relatives in England
• Attended the London, England LDS Temple dedication
• Did much genealogy in England before going to the European continent
• Went to the Worlds Fair in Brussels, Belgium
• Toured the European continent (Belgium, The Netherlands, Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Italy, and France)
• Did much genealogy in England after going to the European continent
• Sailed from England back to America on the Queen Elizabeth
• Visited her brother in Cleveland, OH, USA

I am very much like Grandma Clark. We're both alike in these ways:

-Religious

-Tall

-Left-handed

-The oldest child

-Creative

-Love facts

-Love people

-Want to know about ancestors

-Independent

-Do what we want

I wouldn't have known so much about her if she hadn't kept a journal. She recorded many of the things said at the LDS Temple dedication; I know now that people say many of the same things today. I admire her tenacity because when she kept a journal she wrote every day. Sometimes she wrote just one sentence, nevertheless even that tells me something about her. She's been dead for more than 30 years, and I'm grateful to get to know her in the next best way (through her words) because she died when I was too young to appreciate her life. The things I have of hers mean more to me now because I know her better. Journaling helps me and it also helps my posterity to know me. I'll live on because of my words and truly become more than just a name on a page. UPDATE: If you want to read Grandma Clark's words see April 30th.

The Value of a Journal

1) I can record my thoughts and get them out of my head.

2) Reading what I wrote as well as considering the entire situation gives me perspective.

3) Writing it means I don't have to remember it.

4) It's like having a mute friend that let's me "talk" as much as I want.

5) I record history and things that are important to me.

6) Reading past entries causes me to learn from what I wrote. I forget current things quickly (as do most people.) When I read what I previously wrote I get to remember the thing that was important to me and learn from it again, and usually also learn other things. 

My journal helps me evolve and grow toward becoming what I want to be. When reading past entries I see patterns. Sometimes I see ways that I want to change. No matter what is going on around me, I can say honest things to my journal and never be ridiculed. There is no right or wrong way to journal, if the journal looks like a scrapbook then so what - the most important thing is that what's in there - written or otherwise - is something valued. I've included cards, notes, ticket stubs, flowers, drawings, and my words in my journals.

Some people are short and sweet; they record one sentence or maybe just one word to sum up their day. Some people are elaborate and write many words. Sometimes people record something they studied. Sometimes people do all the above. People's moods change every day: sometimes they feel like writing and sometimes they don't. Some people feel like their life is boring and they have nothing to say. Some people are private and don't want to record what they think because then the public may read it. Some people think, "No one, including me, wants to read my words." No matter what type of person someone is, there's value in journal writing.

A journal helps the person who wrote it, and when they move on to the next life a journal lets the reader know them. My Great Grandma Clark is dead but I have a few of her journals from the 1950's that tell me a lot about her. She wrote one line entries, and I give her credit because she wrote every day! I know what she valued by what she mentioned. I know what she did by what she recorded. I don't have to only rely on hearsay to know about her because I have her own words. My Grandma Gordon, who is also dead, never kept journals but I have a pocket book calendar that she probably had in her purse when she went on a trip in the 1970's. She made notes in it. Not only do I have what she said but I have her handwriting. A journal not only helps me but it will also help my posterity to know me for generations.

I don't write for future generations but for my own benefit. I've written journals since 1978 (when I was ten.) Now, the year is 2013 (35 years later) and I still and probably will always keep a journal. At times I've considered my journal "cheap therapy" as I've recorded my honest feelings and worked through hard things. There's no way I would have remembered a lot of things I recorded because so much time has gone by. It's fun to go back and read what I thought was important then. If I'd never kept a journal I'd tell myself that it's never too late to start.

Prayer

I have been thinking a lot about this journal entry and how much

it touched me to write it and how much it touches me now. I

wanted to share it with you today:

February 1, 2008

Why do I cry or shed tears when I pray?

Because I believe that Heavenly Father's promises are true.

I believe in Jesus Christ and that He's my Savior.

That through faith in Him - He changes my heart.

I know that.

But I cry because the things I pray for,

I hope for,

I want so much,

and I believe they are righteous desires,

and I know the Lord will bless us with the desires of our hearts,

if we ask in faith.

and it fills my soul with happiness,

and I cry.

I cry in gratitude to my Savior.

I thank him that he provided a way to cleanse me from my sins,

and that I may become pure and sanctified.

I cry in gratitude for the promises Heavenly Father made,

that if we keep His commandments,
and do all He asks of us,

and endure to the end (have faith to the end),

we will have eternal life.

We can have the fruit of the tree that is sweeter than sweet,

and whiter than white,

and more precious than any gift,

and I look forward to that day,

with hope and steadfastness in Christ,

to enjoy those blessings with my husband and my family,

and it fills my soul with joy when I pray for these things,

and my cup runneth over,

and I cry in gratitude.

Mood Stages

So I've been dealing with MS for 7 months now-known what was wrong with me for 4 months. And I've noticed my moods have gone in stages. When I didn't know what was wrong with me, I was very patient. I actually surprised myself by being calm and patient...no hysteria. no why is this happening to me? no pity-party. I just waited patiently for the doctors to tell me what was wrong with me. During those 3 months, I did a lot of thinking.

I remember one day I was lying on my bed feeling kind of scared and a thought came to me...it could be worse. I started thinking about all the ways in which it could be worse. 1) I have problems with my eyesight but at least I don't have to face this trial in darkness. 2) I have problems walking but at least I "can" walk. As I thought about those things, something happened, I started to feel very grateful. Grateful that it wasn't worse.

Shortly after that I was sitting at the piano. (I've loved the piano since I could play it. I love to sing and play, it's like therapy to me...and sometimes a prayer. I have often played and sung for hours and my heart has swelled at the music. It clears my head, it's a thinking time for me, I can escape in the music and think. (I love it.) Here's my trial...my hands, especially the right hand, are weak. I can't hold my hands on the keys. I try to play, but I can't. As for my voice, I have no support from the diaphragm...I can't sing. The two things I love in all this world I can no longer do. As I sat there at the piano that day thinking about that, a strange thing happened, I was grateful. Grateful for the 20+ years I had to play and sing. Grateful that God have given me that time to spend with him. I knew that even if I never played or sang again in this lifetime, that those things would be restored to me in heaven. In eternity I would have the opportunity once again to play and sing and it gave me comfort knowing that. It made it okay.

At some point I realized that we become attached to our lives and to others and that is why we are afraid of death. We don't want to lose what we are used to or not have the people in our life that we love. But I realized that life doesn't end...it is eternal. We keep living even if it's not in "this" life...and the things I call "important" stand out to me. Family relationships, friends, being pure and clean to live in the presence of God. Those are things I can work on even in the midst of my trials.

It's been 7 months and my trial goes on. I've been taking Copaxone since October 1st and it has made such a difference. Within 2 weeks I had more control of my hands to the point that I could actually type. I could walk without feeling like I was twisting around...and even without assistance! I could walk on my own. I could talk better even though I still had "moments." (At least I wasn't avoiding talking to people. I talked on the phone with my sister and my friends and it meant so much to me.) I can type and sit at the computer now -  I have access to the outside world! There are a lot of things I "can" do and I'm glad that it's not worse.

I was thinking this morning what a bummer it is that I am not an early riser any more. I used to get up at 5:30 or 6:00am and read my scriptures for an hour or two, and now it's a miracle that I rise at 6:45 to make a shake for Andrew and say good-bye to him as he goes off to school. For the next hour I am waking up. I thought about writing a blog this morning and kind of felt like having a pity-party for myself because of all the things I can no longer do, or at least can't do as well in my mind. But as I sit here writing this blog, it occurs to me that there are a lot of things I 'can' do. I can either give in to pity and self-defeat and become a negative and bitter person, or I can be positive and see all the good things around me. I think I'll take #2 even though it takes more will-power. I know I'll feel better if I go with #2.

A person never knows what life is going to deal them. One day they could be going along thinking they're in control...eating a certain diet, exercising, doing the grind, in the comfort zone, and all of a sudden everything is shaken up. That's what happened to me. The mask of my life was removed and my life was exposed for everyone to see. But what I noticed was that people were nice they wanted to be helpful. Most people care - they don't mock me but are accepting. I'm still trying to get used to that. I want to hide, I want everyone to "think" I have it all under control - that my life is together. But I'm all exposed and vulnerable and everyone can see it. It's like I have no more "pride" because it's all out there for everyone to see. But I've realized that it's a good thing because I'm real. I'm not pretending, not hiding. What you see is what you get.

I wrote this in my journal the other day:
I have even turned away from God to some degree in not acknowledging his hand in all things. I've been trying to be brave and fine, and handle trials on my own and in that process, I've shut him out. After I handle my trial, then I'll turn to him. But here's what I've realized.

Being brave is like the outer shell of a crab, it's what I want the world to see, that I'm fine, I'm tough, I can handle my problems. But the Lord wants me to put off the natural man to put off that outer shell. When a crab takes off its shell, its exposed, vulnerable, just a crab. Nothing to hide. The Lord wants me to come to him with no shell. He wants me to invite him in so he can make my weak things become strong, so he can succor me. If I have my outer shell on, I cannot let him in. Taking off the shell, or putting off the natural man, is humbling myself and being submissive. It is coming to him and letting him in.

I like that. I want to walk through my life with Heavenly Father. I want him to be with me and to strengthen me. My trials may not be taken away, but he can make the load seem lighter. It gives me a lot of hope. I think the mood stage I'm in right now is a battle of my will. I will not give in to pity. I will not give in to negativity. I will put my trust in God and he will support me. For that I am grateful.