All sorrows can be born if you can put them into a story
Karen Blixen
Stories are important. Stories offer an escape, which is why as children we likely loved fairy tales. Stories offer hope, tell about struggles, despair, joy and celebration. Stories cover every aspect of the human condition. Some are told to scare us, nothing like a good ghost story after dark around a campfire the scares you to death. Some are told to make us happy. Some are told to teach a lesson (remember the dog with the bone who looks at its mirror image in the water?). Whatever the reason for telling the story, if it is told well, it will have a lasting impression on the story teller and the recepient.
I love a good story. Through the years I have been told a number of them. Some are long and you hope the person is soon going to get to the point and finally finish. Others are highly entertaining. Some incredibly practical. For example, did you know that flour only absorbs as much water as it needs to be mixed together? So if you have flour in a bag or container you can add the water and mix it right in your container and then remove it to cook, leaving the remainder of your flour for the next time. A handy bit of information if you are an outdoors, camping type of person. An interesting piece of information stored in this non-camper, non out doors kind of persons mind (a camper and out door survivalist I am not!).
People have all kinds of interesting stories to share. I love sharing in those moments. You never know what kind of interesting tidbits are going to be imparted. Perhaps more importantly you never know how important the telling of the story might be to the story teller. Stories, whatever the circumstance, convey a piece of the person. Each story tells a bit more about their life, joys and struggles. The stories are integral to the well being of a person and often help us cope with whatever life throws our way. It is also important to listen when a story is being told so that the point is understood. Often times the story teller is conveying a life experience that over time they figured out a way to share. It can often hide great struggle and sorrow.
I do know that when a story of sorrow is able to be told it is not told quickly. Nor is it told soon after the experience. All too often it is first internalized; too wounded to share the great pain the person may retreat for a time. Most eventually emerge again, they are changed and scarred and slowly they can tell their story. I remember well the spring and summer I turned twelve. My father was seriously ill; it was life threatening. My mother rushed off to be with him. My brother and I would go live with our older siblings. It was a horrible summer, but I had a very patient sister and brother-in-law. My father did eventually recover and returned home. For many years no one could even mention his illness where I was, it would reduce me to uncontrollable tears. The pain and fear were too fresh and deeply private. My father was not the most patient person with this type of emotional expression and would simply say “stop that foolishness!” Now, many years later I can selectively share the experience. It is rarely done randomly and has only been with a select few people. Most would only be told that I grew up with a very ill father.
Stories, we all have them to share. Some stories flow freely, others reluctantly dragged from a person. Each story that we tell imparts a bit more of ourselves to the people that we comfortably share it with. Each story helps us move forward and remember the experience and what we gleaned from it. Each story helps us remember the person with a smile as we choose to focus less on the difficult times and cherish instead the happier moments that were spent together building memories.
Stories challenge us, teach us, make us think. They help us want to know more about another and build a relationship by listening to the story that they have to tell. We all have a story to tell.
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