I snuck in the back door as quietly as I dared. Setting my purse down carefully on the kitchen floor, I reached into the big black trash bag near the back wall. Forcing my hand through the leftovers–bits of gristle,... Read MoreIt was a real journal. The one I’d always wished I could find.
Moleskine honors my story and my life. They craft the pages
with care, and they treat my words as if they matter. When I sit in a coffee
shop or on a bench at the beach, people often ask me what I’m writing. "That’s a beautiful journal," they say. I
smile, and nod, and inside, something is very proud.
"Take that!" I say inside myself to the family of origin I haven’t
seen or spoken with in over a decade.
I buy Moleskines every few months, whether I need them or
not. I buy the Van Gogh green ones, the small ones, the blank ones, the lined
ones—I have a shelf full of them, as if they are a treasure. And they are
Recently I published my first book. I’m happy to say that
there was nothing left or ripped out of it… It is my words, and my story, in
all of its honest, sacred truth. I wrote much of it in my first moleskine. The
words poured out of me, and found a safe place among the pages. I’m happy to
say they’re all still there.
author of Stumbling Toward Faith (Zondervan, Harper Collins 2004)
avid Moleskine user, lover of all things cheese.
Visit her site.
A MOLESKINE NOTES ESSAY SERIES ENTRY. This is the last entry in the series. Thanks for your participation.
Image: "Lettres de Lou" by Arsian @ Moleskinerie/FLICKR.
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Get out, have a life – and write about it! Enjoy the weekend everyone. See you on Monday!