The blue journal-#246

There’s this one item I own that may not look like much to anyone else but it's does mean Alot to me, it's a simple navy blue journal. But to me, it’s priceless. It was a gift from my mom, given quietly, without ceremony, but with a kind of love that didn’t need words. I remember the day she handed it to me, she just pressed it into my hands and said, “I thought you might like this for church.” At the time, it seemed like a small gesture. I had no idea just how much that journal would come to mean to me.

IMAGE IS MINE
The journal itself is beautiful in its simplicity deep navy cover, soft to the touch, with a smooth ribbon that falls perfectly between pages. But I added something personal to it, something that makes it completely mine. Just below the lower edge of the front cover, I carefully drew a Japanese hiragana ,it means “peace.” I did it in sky blue ink, small and discreet, but intentional. That word peace is what I hoped to find in every sermon, every reflection, every prayer I would write within its pages.

And so I made a quiet promise to myself, this journal would not be rushed or messy. I would write in it beautifully, My words would be intentional, my handwriting clear and gentle, I bring it to church every Sunday tucked carefully in my bag, it's almost like the bag was meant for the journal, and when the sermon begins or worship hits me, I open to a fresh page and begin writing not just what’s being said, but what it stirs inside me.

There’s something sacred about that process, Some pages are filled with Scripture verses written in loops, underlined and highlighted with meaning. Others have prayers some complete others trailing off into silence. There are pages where my handwriting changes slightly because tears blurred my vision. Each page feels alive, each one holds a moment of my walk with God.

Sometimes, I flip through the journal and see the path I’ve taken, weeks when I was weary but still wrote down promises of hope, Sundays when I felt joy bubbling over and captured it in bright strokes of ink. My church journal has quietly held all the versions of me,from the doubting, the believing, the grieving, the rejoicing. It has seen my faith in motion, my transformation in real time.

What makes it so special isn’t just the gift itself, but what it represents,a mother’s love, my desire for peace, and the bit by bit unfolding of my spiritual story. To anyone else, it might just be a navy notebook with a strange symbol on the front. But to me, it’s a sacred space, a quiet keeper of everything I’m learning, everything I’m becoming. I didn’t choose it, we never even knew our paths will cross but it did and now, it’s one of the most meaningful things I own.

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