Early Saturday morning I decided to visit Goodwill where I'd dropped off donations the day my bag went missing. Though I had called them on Friday, and they had not seen it, I thought perhaps if I looked in person, it might turn up. The employees informed me donations are processed the same day they arrive; books would go directly on the shelves.
While searching for my book (I was hoping they just chucked the old journal), I came across another book: I Think I'm Happier Than I Think I Am. I was intrigued by the title. When I saw it was written by a pastor, I flipped through a few pages and landed on this passage: "I believe that we humans cannot make real progress toward maturity without letting go of something significant." Seriously? I mean, come on. It's like the Holy Spirit just took the book and slapped me in the face. $1.50 later, I was carrying it to the car.
I pondered those words all day. Old verses came to mind:
Consider it pure joy...
Thy will be done...
For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord...
Was I really going to let a missing bag and journal undo a lovely Mother's Day weekend? Whenever I began to feel anxiety about the journal, I reminded myself of the verses. I reminded myself that God's plans are bigger than mine. I imagined someone who didn't know God reading my prayers. Would they write me off as a crazy person, wondering why I wasted so much ink writing to an imaginary being? Or would they consider that maybe, just maybe, there was something sacred there? Would they see the pattern of the chaotic ranting and raw emotion at the beginning of an entry followed by God's assurances and a thankful heart at the end? God knows I didn't really want anyone to find it, but I hoped if they did, it would at least be put to good use.
By the end of the day, I was feeling a little more peaceful. Maddie and I went to a bookstore to buy more Mother's Day cards (since the ones in my purse were gone) and some gifts for the grandmothers. On the way home, we were passing by the coffee shop I'd visited Friday morning. "Do you mind if we just pop in and ask about my purse, honey?" She agreed, and we pulled in minutes before closing time.
"I know I already called, and you guys said no one turned it in, but I was in here yesterday, and I lost my blue bag. It has elephants on it..."
The employee's brows drew together. Her lips puckered into a frown as she looked under the counter. "No, sorry...Oh wait. Is this it?"
Cue the crazy lady: "WOO HOO!!! Thank You [eyes raised to heaven]! Thank you [to wide-eyed employee]! Come on around here! I need to give you a hug! Can I give you a hug?" I ran to the end of the counter, and the poor, uncomfortable looking young woman gingerly accepted my bear hug. [Ugh, boundaries, Jessie, boundaries!] Oh well, it's not like I'll be going back there after my crazy display.
I have learned a few lessons from this whole experience:
1. Never take a personal journal out of the home. I've now written in the front of my journals instructions for their disposal when I die. Morbid, right? Maybe I'll just burn them when they're full.
2. Write in code, especially when praying for friends. No more first names. My friends trust me, as I trust them, to pray for very private matters. Not for public consumption.
3. Trust God. Even if my bag and book and journal had never been recovered, God knew where they were at all times. He know everything and has a perfect plan. I'm just so very grateful our plans aligned this time!
While searching for my book (I was hoping they just chucked the old journal), I came across another book: I Think I'm Happier Than I Think I Am. I was intrigued by the title. When I saw it was written by a pastor, I flipped through a few pages and landed on this passage: "I believe that we humans cannot make real progress toward maturity without letting go of something significant." Seriously? I mean, come on. It's like the Holy Spirit just took the book and slapped me in the face. $1.50 later, I was carrying it to the car.
I pondered those words all day. Old verses came to mind:
Consider it pure joy...
Thy will be done...
For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord...
Was I really going to let a missing bag and journal undo a lovely Mother's Day weekend? Whenever I began to feel anxiety about the journal, I reminded myself of the verses. I reminded myself that God's plans are bigger than mine. I imagined someone who didn't know God reading my prayers. Would they write me off as a crazy person, wondering why I wasted so much ink writing to an imaginary being? Or would they consider that maybe, just maybe, there was something sacred there? Would they see the pattern of the chaotic ranting and raw emotion at the beginning of an entry followed by God's assurances and a thankful heart at the end? God knows I didn't really want anyone to find it, but I hoped if they did, it would at least be put to good use.
By the end of the day, I was feeling a little more peaceful. Maddie and I went to a bookstore to buy more Mother's Day cards (since the ones in my purse were gone) and some gifts for the grandmothers. On the way home, we were passing by the coffee shop I'd visited Friday morning. "Do you mind if we just pop in and ask about my purse, honey?" She agreed, and we pulled in minutes before closing time.
"I know I already called, and you guys said no one turned it in, but I was in here yesterday, and I lost my blue bag. It has elephants on it..."
The employee's brows drew together. Her lips puckered into a frown as she looked under the counter. "No, sorry...Oh wait. Is this it?"
Cue the crazy lady: "WOO HOO!!! Thank You [eyes raised to heaven]! Thank you [to wide-eyed employee]! Come on around here! I need to give you a hug! Can I give you a hug?" I ran to the end of the counter, and the poor, uncomfortable looking young woman gingerly accepted my bear hug. [Ugh, boundaries, Jessie, boundaries!] Oh well, it's not like I'll be going back there after my crazy display.
I have learned a few lessons from this whole experience:
1. Never take a personal journal out of the home. I've now written in the front of my journals instructions for their disposal when I die. Morbid, right? Maybe I'll just burn them when they're full.
2. Write in code, especially when praying for friends. No more first names. My friends trust me, as I trust them, to pray for very private matters. Not for public consumption.
3. Trust God. Even if my bag and book and journal had never been recovered, God knew where they were at all times. He know everything and has a perfect plan. I'm just so very grateful our plans aligned this time!
I’m so glad you found it!
ReplyDeleteMe, too, friend!
Delete