I bought Andrew a new Moleskine journal. He wants to write about the trip he’s about to start.

I almost bought one for myself. I didn’t. Two-thirds of the one I started at the beginning of the year is still blank. I have a couple blank little ones on the shelf. But I love blank journals. I love perfect new pencils and pens. The process of buying a blank new journal for writing great thoughts or making lists of goals or keeping track of progress is a wonderful process. It is full of hope and self-congratulation.

Then suddenly, it’s the end of February. The dreams of productivity are still dreams and the best thing to do seems to be to go buy a new journal. Because it’s easier than facing life, facing the work.

As I write this post that started with a blank page and no clear idea of where it was going, I thought about a phrase of hope from a depressing book. Lamentations is, well, lamentable. Jeremiah is a usually a prophet but here is a poet. He takes the alphabet and begins writing about the destruction of his country, a new thought for each letter. (Kind of like Nat King Cole’s “L is for the way you look at me, O is for the only one I see.” Only morbid.)

In this middle of this lament describing suffering, Jeremiah writes this:

Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.”

It’s an odd way to start a new week. But sometimes we don’t get a blank page. We need new compassions on the existing page.