Sometimes I feel like posting but think I have nothing to post. So I post something I have drafted previously, maybe changing something here or there. And then I realize within usually 5 minutes that I have something to tell the world after all. I thought about removing the previous post but it is exactly what I need to be thinking about so I'll leave it and just post for the second time tonight.
Shortly after I posted about faith, my mom asked me to brush my five year old brother (JD)'s teeth. Not an unusual request, I do it almost every night anyway. So I set aside the laptop and went to brush his teeth. He started to act a little stubborn about it, but I ployed him with a reminder of mom's promise to read him stories after his teeth were brushed. That got him moving, but still, it wasn't enough. He wanted stories NOW. You see, in my family I am the storyteller. I always have been.
When I was little, younger than 5 probably, I began making up outrageous stories that no on would believe. It's a good thing though, because they were never true. I have just always been a storyteller. I used to share a room with my two younger sisters and to get them to sleep I would tell them stories. When my brother JD was a baby, he would get cranky in the car and so I would whisper in his ear, just making things up as I went. By whispering he would have to stop crying in order to hear what I was saying and then stay quiet because he wanted to hear. It didn't ALWAYS work, but most of the time. After I switched bedrooms, I no longer told them stories. As JD got older he was better in the car. I didn't have the occasions when I needed to utilize that gift. But more recently, in the past months or year, I have had to pick it up again.
I just felt good about that and wanted to share that little piece of joy in my week.
.k grace.
note: all photos I post are my own unless otherwise noted, please do not use without permission.
Shortly after I posted about faith, my mom asked me to brush my five year old brother (JD)'s teeth. Not an unusual request, I do it almost every night anyway. So I set aside the laptop and went to brush his teeth. He started to act a little stubborn about it, but I ployed him with a reminder of mom's promise to read him stories after his teeth were brushed. That got him moving, but still, it wasn't enough. He wanted stories NOW. You see, in my family I am the storyteller. I always have been.
When I was little, younger than 5 probably, I began making up outrageous stories that no on would believe. It's a good thing though, because they were never true. I have just always been a storyteller. I used to share a room with my two younger sisters and to get them to sleep I would tell them stories. When my brother JD was a baby, he would get cranky in the car and so I would whisper in his ear, just making things up as I went. By whispering he would have to stop crying in order to hear what I was saying and then stay quiet because he wanted to hear. It didn't ALWAYS work, but most of the time. After I switched bedrooms, I no longer told them stories. As JD got older he was better in the car. I didn't have the occasions when I needed to utilize that gift. But more recently, in the past months or year, I have had to pick it up again.
I remember the first time in several years that I had to call on that gift. It was this year. I had to put my sisters to bed and my youngest sister Em asked for a story. I racked my brain for something, ANYTHING. I got nothing. I walked away wondering, "What happened?" I used to be able to come up with a story on a moment's notice. And now? I couldn't anymore. The next time she asked I told her my version of a long joke about turtles. But I still wasn't satisfied. I felt like I had lost a huge part of me. So the next time one of my younger brothers or sisters asked for a story I made one up. It was stupid and sounded stilted and I had to stop often to think of what to say next. But I worked at it and became more fluent as time went on. Now tonight when JD asked for a story I felt good. Because I have rediscovered a part of me I had lost. I thought fast and told him a story about a snurtle and a porculinus who got all stuck together with superglue and had to use toothpaste to unstick themselves. It felt like a rebirthing moment. One of those moments when you have just come out of the forest and marvel at
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| the light breaking through, |
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| the sun in your face, |
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| and the wind in your hair. |
.k grace.
note: all photos I post are my own unless otherwise noted, please do not use without permission.
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