From one Journaller to Another

Sometimes the most beautiful gifts come to you when you least expect it, and you had no idea until they do, how much you need it. Sifting through Facebook this evening a post came up with my name on it. Below was this photograph:

Strangely enough I recognized the kind of notebook immediately. They were the ones I used to teach my Journalling classes to kids. As I read what was written, tears began streaming down my face... and then I started sobbing. I don't even know why, but I couldn't stop.

Journalling has always been my saving grace over the years. It's where I go to write about my days, to plan and organise, to make lists of things to do, to capture images and ideas. But it's underlying purpose is a safe place to go to discover what I feel, to sift through the confusion, try to figure things out, pour out the pain and a haven to shelter from life's storms. It's where I go whenever I am lost and I need to find me. My journal is my most precious belonging and it goes everywhere with me, and is always, always there for me.

That a seven year old's first entry into her new journal twelve years ago be about a nice lady that she met at a garage sale, is quite lovely. That the nice lady that she met happened to be me... I don't have the words to say what this means to me today. But I know that it is precious beyond belief.

Thank you, Teagan, Thank you. You will never know how much I needed to see this. I didn't, but I do. I would be lying if I said that I completely remembered you. My fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue has put paid to many finer details of my memory these last ten years. But I can promise you that I will never forget you now.

And know that I will be writing about this, tonight, in my journal.