Tuesday, April 12

It's in the Story

It seems that our first instinct is to judge; to inspect first, ask later.

But going only on visual interpretation, we don't know someone's heart, someone's struggles and joys. It is in the story telling, the getting to know each other, that I hope we see Jesus!

Life isn't about the daily grind. It's about the stories. My church did some soul searching and reflections a few years back, wondering about leaving the neighborhood and if the neighborhood would notice. The answer is YES!

But what about me personally? Would my neighborhood miss me? Am I interjecting myself into the life stories of the people around me, specifically in a positive way? Or do I just skim the surface with small talk and gossip? Do I care enough to go deep into the stories of my neighbor's lives and let them do the same into my life?

It scares me to do that. Letting someone into your story can hurt. The chapter could end and that person might not be around for the next chapter. But that person could also change the story so much that the whole book goes in another direction, for good or bad I suppose.

My grandmother passed away a few weeks ago. I didn't know her very well. I didn't even go to her service, thoug
h I am deeply saddened! My mother and father said that people told wonderfully stories about her and they wished that we, my sisters and I, had gotten to know her. Actually, I had plans to visit her early this summer and ask her how she met Grandpa, but she passed away before I could find out her story. Really, it's my story; how I got here; how my dad grew up to become the amazing person that he is; how he was shaped to fall in love with my mom and how they raised my sisters and me.

It's a story that shapes me even if I don't know all the details. My grandmother was an amazing author and I hope to be half of what she was. She was so witty and funny the few times I saw her that I could see where my own dad got his sarcasm from! She was short and a bit of a spitfire! Even though the details might be lost, I am shaped by her story. I am shaped by her struggles as a Jew during the Holocaust, (I just found this out!!!) I am shaped by her work ethic that shaped my dad who taught me. I am shaped by her genes and blood that flows through me, even if I can't see all of the connections.

Why do we like the shows on television that depict an ER or a court room or the streets of LA? Because there are stories to be told in those locations. There are stories of struggle and stories of triumph; stories that we can relate to, or stories that we are glad we can't identify with.

Why? Because it's in the story...


  1. Wonderful post. I'm sorry to hear about your grandmother. I lost my grandmother in April 2010. She fought a losing battle against Alzheimer's, but oh the stories she told! Whenever we would visit her in the nursing home she always had a tale to tell - about the fish she'd caught and let go that day, or the gentlemen callers she had come by. Like you said, life is in the stories.

  2. What a wonderful reminder to listen while you can! I am so sorry you didn't get to talk to her!