Journal: March 1, 1999
Newness in Spring? Three months since I made my New Year’s resolutions. I am getting old! And I don’t see how I can help it.
Sixteen! My mind conspired to plague me. The Bible says to be careful with my heart, “For out of it are the issues of life.” I am miserable at how I can start at changing myself!
I mean to get up early. But it’s dismally cold out there. The last of wintry days were just yesterday!
It’s delightfully warm in bed, deeper in my quilt. I stayed up late last night, writing. I’m too occupied to pray now.
I'll write consistently in my new journal each day. At sixteen, I feel that I’m in the premise of making changes about myself. Momma and Dad’s queer ideas and crazy notions about how my life should be might have some truths. Setting that aside, I am beginning to feel some disgust just thinking of what to say of myself. But I’m going to write. I'll be brave.
It’ll be good to read my journals over in the next four years, and see what a creature I am. I felt like turning a new leaf at the start of the year. New year’s resolutions seemed a neat idea for a young woman as I. I fancy at being just like the goody people my sisters and I read about in old books. I imagine how pleased Dad and Momma would be to see me improved.
They’ll wait for me for prayer and devotions. I don’t care much for praying though.
My family is so provoking! My distressing trial in this full house! I disappointed Momma when I spoke up about the lack of discipline of my brothers and sisters. My parents often scold me to keep my hands at home. I know what that means.
I’m too upset to pray.
April 3 ---
Dinner bell rang for breakfast. I jumped up with a start and flurried to find my dress, fleece jacket, and knee-highs. Nel swept our room again, and hung my dress in the closet! And why couldn’t Melissa stop poking in my wardrobe! I want them just where I left them last night!
Praying was too late.
Downstairs, Momma sighed at my tardiness. But her smile invited me to my cozy seat:
“Late again, Sis. You don’t deserve breakfast,” Ken smirked and teased.
“If I spent half as much time looking for my things, I wouldn’t have half as much time coming down late!”
Momma sighed again. I would have preferred a stern and open rebuke than a sigh. A chance at answering back would have been more freeing.
After breakfast and devotions, we set to work with chores. As I hurried off to our schoolroom, it flashed into my mind that I had not said my prayers. That wasn’t nice to begin a day! Well, I guess my self-denying resolutions pleased God better than my rambling prayers could.
I wonder what Momma finds to say when she’s up so early for study of her Bible and prayer.
May 1 --
My empty brain can’t figure out an algebra problem. I’ll force myself to half-finish school earlier. Brainwork for the day is draining. I can’t pray. Praying is thinking. And thinking tires me. I'll say my prayers in bed tonight, if I don’t fall asleep.
Momma was sitting by the fire in her rocking chair reading a missionary storybook to Ken, Jim and Jody. A sunny spring afternoon couldn’t keep the children indoors after a good read. Left alone, it was her usual quiet afternoon reading Tozer’s, “The Knowledge of the Holy”, and praying.
After what seemed an hour, Momma called me from my own reverie.
“Kerryn, I'm sorry for you that you have taken after my selfish, strong-willed temper.”
“Yours! I can’t believe it, Momma!”
I hung my head feeling horrible about myself. I just wished there was any way to grow good.
“I wish I could make you love to pray. I wish you could know there is real happiness in asking the One who hears and answers prayer of those who ask. I wish I could help you see your need of God in every way.”
I’ve seen my emptiness and darkness outside Calvary’s mercy. And I have seen the beauty and sweetness of life. The crowning joy of prayer since Spring brought forth new Life in Jesus, fills my soul.
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