April 18, 1999 – Sunday – 7:09 a.m.

Two weeks and four days remain until I head back to Lees-McRae.  I look forward to walking alone on my own private mountain trails.  I need to think again with a clear mind.  The mountain air always does me good.

I called Allen yesterday morning.  Our conversation turned a bit serious when he told me that things went poorly with three of my dear friends as he attempted to do the boyfriend-girlfriend thing.  He said he feels terrible.  He crossed the line with each of them and they mean so much to me.  It hurt to hear it, but I can do nothing but love them and forgive them.  The conversation did make me very thankful to be there.  I’m surrounded by so much innocence and purity.  I would rather deal with loneliness than continually deal with the temptation I had to deal with during my days with Sarah.  God continues to heal me of all those past hurts and pains.  I want to me the real true me.

There really aren’t any girls here that seem to have my name on them.  My thoughts often dwell on Mary Jo, Kimberly, and even Kerstin, but I honestly don’t think they are for me.  I want to hold out for true love, and not just settle for a pretty girl I think I can live with.  Mary Jo has impressed me the most with her heart, but I’m afraid our future paths in life are completely different.

For my most immediate future, I want to live my life in airports.  I seem to find peace in them.  Perhaps because I already live each day watching others as I wait to fly away.

There was a funny moment that happened at IHOP the other night when I was there with the youth group.  I ordered pancakes and thought the thing in front of me on the table was syrup, but no…it was coffee.  And it came out fast.  I poured coffee all over my pancakes, myself, the table, those sitting next to me.  Marion laughed for the next ten minutes.  It was actually fantastic to be so the source of so much joy and laughter.

There are days when I like to be alone

To be still and silent

To listen

My stomach growls, my VCR rewinds

My memory does them both

A plane flies overhead

And I hear this pen move across this paper

 

Then there are days when I must listen to music

To hear the words of others as they dream

And to dream with them

I agree with Cindy Morgan, relate with Derek Webb

And adore Rebecca

But still there are times when my breath

Is the only music I need

 

And in this silent, I’ve come to ponder love

Is it terrible to love the wrong woman?

Is that such a waste of time?

If so, I wasted seven months

And can’t afford to spend this heart on the wrong one once again

The effort would be a tragedy

A ticking clock, never knowing the time

April 19, 1994 – Tuesday – 7:50 p.m.

Tenielle called me earlier.  She called to tell me that she wrote me a letter 15 pages long.  And she said that in the letter she apologizes.

As I said before, it will all blow over.

I have learned something throughout all of this heartache.  Something to help me in the future.  Sometimes people leave you half way through this life.  Others may deceive you.  But I am not alone.

You move just a finger, say the slightest words, and something is bound to linger.

You will be heard.

People make mistakes.

Holding to their own; thinking they’re alone.

You can’t judge them; you can’t blame them.

It’s sometimes hard to see the light, but things will come out right after the night.

Others will leave me halfway though this life.  I can’t let it grieve me, because I too will soon leave others.

I will soon know what’s out there in the world.  No one can prepare you for the world.

I have constantly listened and watched.  Through this incident I have listened and watched.

No one can prepare you, but you can prepare yourself.  I must say thank you to my past.

That, I believe, is the purpose of this Book of Days.  I learn from reading what I once wrote.

And if anyone else ever reads these entries, I hope you are also learning something.

October 28, 1993 – Thursday – 6:12 p.m.

Something happened yesterday.  You’re probably thinking something happened at church.  Well, you’re wrong, this happened at school.

On March 5, 1993, a Friday, I wrote something in my first Book of Days about a woman named Mrs. Nance.  She was my chemistry teacher then.  I would not have given her that letting, sharing the gospel with her, if I did not know she was dying of cancer.  No one ever knew if she was a Christian or not.  We all just knew she was a firm believer in evolution and not creation.  She’s had cancer for a long time and during my junior year she would be out for weeks at a time.  I liked it when that happened because we didn’t actually have to do chemistry when the substitute teacher was there.  I hated chemistry with a passion; it was so confusing.

Mrs. Nance often talked about dying.  She talked about how much money and pain it was costing her just to stay alive a little longer.  Once day a student asked her if she considered quitting and not spending the money to pay for all the chemotherapy and just let it all go.

She said, “No, I will do whatever it takes to stay here as long as I can.  I’m not ready to go yet and I will stay with my husband and my song as long as I can.”

Two weeks ago, Mrs. Nance left school.  The doctor had given her two weeks left to live.  She looked so pitiful; her skin was yellow.

We got word yesterday that she passed away.

Mrs. Nance is dead.

In Spanish, Mr. Benton read this poem:

Sunset and evening star,
      And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
      When I put out to sea,
   But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
      Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
      Turns again home.
   Twilight and evening bell,
      And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
      When I embark;
   For tho’ from out our bourne of Time and Place
      The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
      When I have crost the bar.
 
I fear this poem has a meaning I haven’t entirely grasped yet, but as I get closer to the lighthouse, I know I will.

October 23, 1993 – Saturday – 10:20 p.m.

We didn’t have skit group today.  We didn’t have singing practice either.  I stayed home all day.  A lot happened.  Too much to explain.  I’m happy right now.  Really happy.  So happy it’s scary.

Today I got up around nine o’clock.  I took a shower, moused my hair, and then watched some TV.  Jonathan called.  Everyone left to go wherever they went.

I was alone.

A whole Saturday.  A whole house.  All to myself.

What did I do?

Actually, I don’t really know.  I wrote a little while listening to The Phantom of the Opera.  I watched some more TV and then I prayed in the spirit for a while.  I played the Power of One soundtrack super loud and danced to the music in the kitchen.  I practiced my monologues for my college audition and tonight I watched four hours of TV in a row.  I haven’t done that in a long time.  I watched Star Trek: The Next Generation, Baywatch, and the movie Mermaids.  Mermaids was really good.

But you know what?  Things are going to be okay.  I got a letter from Emily yesterday and in it she wrote a poem for me:

Today I saw an eagle flying

Crying out to you and me

Wondering who is free

Asking who might be…

An eagle

Making his dreams come true

Fly, eagle, fly!

Though this world may have no hope

His dreams can keep him free

Like an eagle

Making his dreams come true

Be an eagle, Jacob

Be an eagle.

Everything is going to be fine.  My dreams will come true.  I will write.  I will make movies.  And I will find that right girl out there in the world.  Whether she lives in Florida, North Carolina, or somewhere else; I will find her.

I dare you to keep reading.  By the loving grace and blessings of God, my dreams will come true.

August 25, 1993 – Wednesday – 8:17 p.m.

I skimmed through Eagle’s Path tonight.  I have now realized how terrible it is.  I thought it was good while writing it, but I’ve grown in my skills and I should start over.

Nana told me Les Miserables is coming to Raleigh in October.  I’m thinking about asking Ryan if she would like to see it with me.  I don’t know.  We’ll see.

Tonight was Anne and Jason’s last night.  I probably won’t see them again until Christmas, if even then.  They are a perfect couple and always will be.

I saw Misty briefly at church tonight, but she didn’t speak to me.  I haven’t seen her since July when she gave me all those poems.  Here’s the first one:

I wish I was dead

I wish I was never born

I hope I didn’t lose you as a friend

I hope you don’t hate me

Hmm.  It doesn’t even rhyme.  Misty’s life has been hell.  Her dad died when she was eight and several of her friends have died either by suicide or someone shot them over a baseball cap.  She’s been rejected and she needs love.  I tried to care for her over the summer, but she became addicted to me.  I was so afraid she would kill herself if she knew I had zero romantic feelings for her, and I was just trying to show her God’s love.

Crazy thing is, that whole ordeal with Misty got Ryan and I talking a lot over the summer.  Ryan and Misty know each other from school, so Ryan would always want me to call her any time Misty called me saying she wanted to kill herself.

How can a 14-year-old know so much pain?

Here’s another poem from Misty:

I have so much inside me

And I have so much to give

I just need that special person

Someone for whom to live

I lie in bed at night wondering

Who will it be?

I wish I could look into the future

And be able to see

I wonder what he will be like

I wonder how he will look

I feel as if there are so many

Unread pages in my very big life book.

I guess I will just have to wait

For my future to come by

But until then I’ll keep

Dreaming with a hopeful look

In my eyes.

I can’t help but think of The Phantom of the Opera.  Misty is a pitiful creature of darkness.  What kind of life has she known?  Oh God, give me the courage to show her she is not alone.

Ryan told me tonight that Misty still calls her all the time and all they talk about is me.  I wonder if Ryan likes talking to Misty about me?  I know I would like talking to anyone about her.