Why Write?

So I stole the title from my Honors Writing textbook, but as I've gone through and read different essays in it for homework, I've been thinking about my own personal reasons for writing.

It hit me just a few weeks ago, actually. 

I love writing.

I'd never thought about it before. I mean, when I think of writing, I think of rushing to complete a full 2 page critical analysis in 40 minutes with Snyder breathing down my neck. 

Hand cramps. Brain cramps. 

Not my favorite thing.

But as I've thought about it, I realized just how much I actually write.

You see, last week, I completed my fourth journal. Front to back, every single one. 

Over 600 pages of my life.

All written down. 

The one on top I bought last week. I couldn't decide if I should go with the $10 smaller one, or spend 18 bucks on this one, but in the end, I figured it's a good investment. Besides, now I can stuff even more things between the pages without having to fold anything!

 Some people feel a sense of accomplishment after completing a particularly long and difficult hike. Let's just say I'm not one of those people. But I can tell you one thing I do feel accomplished after is finishing a journal. I find there are few things so rewarding in life. Even better than finally getting that last stamp on your rewards card earning you an extra 20% off your next purchase! (Let's face it, with the over-priced everything else, you already paid for it...) But seriously now, if you've ever had the experience of finishing a journal, you know what I'm talking about. 
But what makes it so rewarding? 

I like being able to remember exact dates of certain events. Talking with old friends and being able to recall all the facts. It's incredible how just re-reading brings back all the feelings and images so vividly. I could count my sketchbooks as a type of journal (and I've got 3 of those filled), and I like being able to see where my mind was during certain periods in my life by looking through all the sketches. I like reading the letters I write to people that they'll probably never read, but they help me think and work out problems. Like talking to someone, only I come to the solution by myself. That, in itself, is rewarding, I guess.

Maybe it's the sense of eternal perspective it gives.

Spencer W. Kimball says it best.

"What could you do better for your children and your children’s children than to record the story of your life, your triumphs over adversity, your recovery after a fall, your progress when all seemed black, your rejoicing when you had finally achieved? Begin today and write your deepest thoughts, your achievements and your failures, your associations and your triumphs, your impressions and your testimonies and the angels may quote from it for eternity."

I want to have a story. 

I want my husband to know who I am.

I want my children to know who I am. 

I cannot wait for the day when my kids give me that look and say, "Mom, you were so weird!" 

I want to be able to look back and find all the promises of my Patriarchal Blessing being fulfilled. 

I want to be able to have the tangible evidence of those dried pressed flowers I pulled off the fortress wall in Salzburg or from the gardens of Herrenchiemse, the half-finished palace King Louise only lived in for 17 days. I really was there! 

I want to read the things from dear friends I have jammed between the pages and think of them- 

hopefully I'll still be in touch. 

And more than that,
to steal the words of Marjorie Pay Hinkley,

"I want the Lord to know 
I was really here and that 

I really lived."