We all have stories

A friendship bracelet, given to me by my granddaughter encircles my wrist. I think about her every time it catches my eye. A beaded bracelet, made by women in Africa and a gift from my oldest daughter, is next to it. Dark blue beads strung alongside a molded whale shark form a third bracelet, a memento from a family trip. Last of all, a bracelet made of thin black cords with a small silver cross threaded onto one of them, completes my collection. It was a gift from a friend, reminding me to pray about everything in life. All these bracelets accompany my running watch on my left wrist. Each represents a part of my story. We all have stories. We all have a myriad of facets, little pockets and rabbit trails in our lives and in our pasts.

When my brother and I were little, our parents would take us to our grandmother’s house for a weekend visit every other month or so. We were the only members of the family that lived out of town so when we’d travel there, everyone would gather for Sunday dinner. The relatives would sit around the kitchen table and on the front porch telling stories. We kids would listen. We learned much about our family members this way. We also learned things about our parents that we’d never heard anywhere else. By learning the stories, we learned about life. It was wonderful.

“Story is how we communicate to manage and understand life.”

Patti Callahan Henry

Before personal devices and social media came on the scene, talking on the phone or across the fence was common. I remember, when I was little, sitting in the car with my mom while waiting on my dad to finish talking. A teacher and coach, he loved to talk, telling anyone who’d listen, funny anecdotes about his students or about his day-to-day life, and sometimes about us. He’d lose track of time “shooting the breeze” as he called it. My mom would get impatient with him, but he loved to tell a good story. Sometimes I’d be embarrassed about the things he told, but he never betrayed a confidence or shared anything sensitive so it taught me to have a sense of humor and to laugh at myself.

To tell our stories is not unlike when an unexpected visitor shows up at the front door on a day when the dishes aren’t done. You know, on one of those days when toys and clothes are all over the floor and dust bunnies combined with pet hair are rolling through the house? It can be a little like rushing to the store in your ratty clothes without makeup to grab a gallon of milk and seeing everyone you know. Telling our stories, our real stories, is laying it all out there, no pretense, no prettying it up, dropping the façade. It’s like saying, “This is me.”

To open ourselves up, be vulnerable, share who we really are underneath the armor is daunting. It’s dangerous to take off our masks, frightening even. We might get hurt. But, what if we find that someone else struggles in the same ways we do? What if we find a friend, a kindred spirit who was there right beside us all the time? Or a confidant, an encourager? What if we get the opportunity to be someone else’s confidant and encourager?

When we take time to listen to each other’s stories, and to share our own, we get a little closer to understanding our world and the people in it. We realize that others struggle with the same things that we do.

My bracelets are something fun for me to wear. They each make me smile and I love the stories they represent. I don’t mind if anyone asks me why I wear them or what they mean. I’ll willingly share and tell them that it makes me think of the person who gave it to me. And each one is connected to a good memory.

You don’t have to wear bracelets to share your story. You only need to be willing to be a little vulnerable. You need to be willing to step out of your comfort zone, to listen to, and notice, other people and their stories.

“Listen, and you will realize that we are made not from cells or from atoms.

We are made from stories.“

Mia Couto, Mozambican writer

We live in a crazy world and not all people are safe places to share our stories. But if, with discernment, we take small steps, maybe something wonderful will happen.

Blessings!