Monday, November 3, 2014



I’ve been thinking about story today. I remember how my mom used to watch the soap opera, “Another World”. She called it her stories.

“I’m going to fold laundry in the family room”, she’d say, “so  I can watch my stories.”

Do you remember some of your favorite stories?

Some of mine were:

Anne of Green Gables – I got lost in her island world complete with red soil, troublesome school adventures, her blaze of hair, Gilbert, Diana and cordial. I never quite figured out what cordial was.

The Black Stallion – A dreamy desert island, a wild horse and a lonely boy, a beach and unbridled, unsaddled, rides with waves crashing and hooves pounding, all the stuff of a great story. So great I’d forget he was stranded, alone, and just a kid.

Love Comes Softly – These may have only been for Mennonite girls. There was Marty the young and pretty widow. Her daughter Missy and the man named Clark who of course would save the day. Something about those stories sucked me in and I could imagine myself living in her Canadian prairie home.

Little House on the Prairie – The classic. I wanted to be Laura. The headstrong half-pint who got to live in a house made of sod, dance with the long prairie grass, and whose pa could play the fiddle. How cool would that be?

So many stories to taste, touch, see and feel and to make the everyday not feel so, well, everyday.

What’s your story today? We’re all in the midst of one.

Are you the beauty or the knight in shining armor?

Do you need rescued or do you just need to hang on so you can make some major life changes?

Are you laughing or crying?

Are you holding a new-found shiny treasure or are you stumped once again?

Maybe it’s just a Monday. Laundry piles and dirty dishes. Dust on dressers and floors to be vacuumed. Paper piles, ticking clocks and laughable deadlines. Grumpy kids who don’t want a nap and a bad hair day. Pants that are too tight and a tired resolve to once again try and do better this week.


Maybe it’s all part of a beautiful story or an epic poem, waiting to be inhaled so we can exhale the glory of God.

I’m going with that.

Here’s to story.

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