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When I went to bed, I dreamt that a girl slightly younger than I was sitting at my desk in my room, writing in her reflections journal. Her unkempt hair reached halfway down her back and her head was bowed low to the desk as she wrote feverishly. After a moment, the girl looked up and her soft brown eyes caught sight of me. She put down her pen, closed her journal, and stood, turning to face me. As she handed me her journal, she spoke in a quiet, pleading voice.
"I know you don't think much of me now," she began. "But, my writing is immature. Give me a chance to grow before you make your decision."
She was gone in the blink of an eye and I was left standing in the middle of my room with the journal in my hand.
When Birgit discovers an old diary, she assumes reading it will help her identify the author. As she delves deeper into the journal, however, she receives the guidance to learn more about herself and her Catholic identity than she ever anticipated.