I never took a class on journaling. I never kept a diary as a child. I didn't journal consistently, but I did journal through some very difficult times in my life and I'm so glad I did. Because of my journaling, I've been able to look back and reflect on where I was and what God has delivered me from.

I think the first time I began to keep a journal was when I was pregnant with Samuel, but it wasn't until after we found out that he would die before, during or shortly after birth that I began to pen my thoughts and emotions. It was a wonderful way to organize my disorganized feelings.

During my pregnancy with Samuel I mostly wrote notes to Samuel about what was on my heart. I said things I knew I'd never get the chance to say to him personally. After Samuel died, I wrote to Samuel telling him about the memorial service and expressing to him how much I missed him.

After my son Josiah died, I didn't journal much. I'm not sure why, but I didn't. I think that loss caught me off guard and I was too lost in my sorrow to think straight. I'm not sure I even thought to do it. I also had two children, so my mind was often pre-occupied with mothering.

When I really began to journal was when my daughter Anna was 9 months old and in the hospital for her first major heart surgery. While my husband and I waited for hours in the waiting room, I journaled my thoughts, my apprehensions, but also just the details of what the nurses told us in regular intervals during her surgery.

We were in the hospital for 3 long weeks and I filled up 2 journals during that time. It was then that I began to write about not only my feelings but my meditations from the scriptures. I'd read portions of scripture, usually the Psalms, and then write about what encouraged me in them. I'd also write out my prayers. During those 3 weeks in the hospital, every time I'd try to pray, my thoughts would be distracted by my emotions. My prayers often ended up confusing, not to God but to me. However, when I'd write out my prayers, they'd be somewhat organized and made me feel better about what I was trying to communicate to God.

When we got home from the hospital, I continued my journaling. It was during that time my journals held more pleasant thoughts. I journaled about the peace in my home and the hope in my heart. I journaled about my children's accomplishments and cute things they said. I journaled about life in general.

When Anna died, I journaled through horrible grief. I cried and was desperate in my journals. I wrote out pitiful prayers. I got mad at who I felt were cold-hearted people. I continually wrote about Anna being in heaven. I wrote out scriptures and once again clung to the hope that they offered. I wrote verses like, Psalm 118:17 "I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD." and Psalm 30:11 "Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness;..."

On days when I needed to look back on Anna's life, I scanned my past journals for glimpses of my little girl. I sought them for comfort and was able to rejoice in her life as I read about the cute things she said and did in her 6 years.

When I began my book, my journals made it a much easier task. I went to my journals to refresh my memory many times. I used them to remember the lessons that God taught me, the love he showed me and the hope he gave me. I marveled at his constant care and provision for my broken heart. You might ask, isn't is too difficult to look back at those desperate, sad days? No, it really isn't. Those days remind me of something precious. They remind me of a faithful God who carried me through. They remind me of the times God showed himself to me in strange places and through unique situations. They help me to see where I was and how far I've come in my healing. They give me a desire to declare the wonderful works of God!

Journaling has been a healing balm for me. I've journaled through every kind of emotion: anger, fear, sadness, hope, peace, and joy. My journals are exclusively mine and I don't have to answer to anybody for them. They are the deep expressions of my heart. They are the shallow reserves of my flesh. They are me.