Confessions of a Journal Writer

Journal writing entered my life when I received a pastel tie-dye-covered diary for my ninth birthday. The diary came with two dainty little keys, which I guarded with my life, though a sharp pair of shears could have gained anyone entry. That summer, I discovered my aptitude and affection for reflective writing. My first musings revolved around friendships, the unfair punishment imposed by my parents (however, to be fair, each was totally deserved), and I even took a whirl at penning poetry.

I still journal over 40 years later, albeit there is much less personal angst and much more spiritual contemplation. The joy of pen to paper, sorting through the full range of human emotion, connecting random thoughts, and wrestling with questions of theology—continue to bring great satisfaction and moments of remarkable clarity. While some people think out loud, I have learned that I think with a pen. My ideas come to a fuller understanding and bloom to maturity as I scrawl them out.

Muddled ideologies and bumpy spiritual awakenings are smoothed out as they are scratched out in red, purple, or green bold point across the smooth glistening writing surface. As my thoughts come fast and furious, my pen frantically toils to keep up, and there is no longer a need for a key to keep prying eyes from discovering my deepest thoughts. For it would require an expert in hieroglyphics as the words fly across the page, seemingly taking on a language of their own—my grandmother would call what remains chicken scratch.

Yet, I know I can return to these glorious pages and recall every word, every emotion. I decided long ago that the words I can no longer decipher or remember are simply not important or meant for anyone other than me. It is akin to those fleeting thoughts which float in and out of our consciousness, dismissed as inconsequential. The messages God wishes me to relay, I can attest, He repeats and reiterates through various situations and from myriad voices. In the end, I’m confident that what I publish for others to read not only comes from Him but always glorifies Him.

As time progresses, the purpose of my journals has evolved, less of capturing the memories of childhood and more of retaining the highlights of my journey of faith reversion. How the Catholic faith can be lived fully in everyday, ordinary moments of life, which I shared through my non-fiction writing. Between the pages of my collection of journals, one finds contemplation on the Scripture, catechesis on the tenets of the faith, mixed with my own struggle to believe, not lose faith, and cast-off doubts.

Spurred on to share because I’ve recognized, after years of conversations with others, that I am not the only person walking in the same wobbly steps, stumbling on these same rocks.

The journey is humbling, overwhelming, exciting at times, and heartbreaking at others. Yet, I know this is my call: to scribe the spiritual, spending endless hours in prayer, reading the scriptures, and participating in the sacraments. All to stay as close to Him as I can, and I’ll joyfully persist because it is on these pages I feel the closest to my God.

Copyright 2022 Allison Gingras