My daddy is a storyteller. A veritable Chaucer he is, his theatrics trapped in a failing body.
The stories he tells, they define me. And in the telling, he wanders between truth and theater with ease, often sacrificing a little of one for a lot of another. A necessary trip, as any good storyteller can attest to.
His voice swallows all the noise in a room, pressing it gently under the weight of his narrative, the occupants a captive audience.
And the audience, the audience is the birth and the spark of the story, the very oxygen sucked in to expel the word-weaving.
And yes, I am my father’s daughter. A less substantive version, with a quieter voice, but still with the word-weaving, and the audience.
And why do I tell you this?
I breathe the oxygen too, the audience, the ears. It’s how I worship, these words from me to you, about life happening, about Jesus, and Truth, and Grace.
And I want to tell you a little more of the backstories … the truth that carves out who I am now, the cornerstones of the story we are living today.
{And truthfully, today’s story is a bit of a downer and not one I want to revisit everyday}.
I am in the midst of molding these stories into the shape of a book-and so, you my audience, my friends-please wander this journey with me, between truth and theater, between grief and grace, between fear and joy.
“Beauty-of form, of language, of meaning-always takes precedence over mere accuracy, truth over mere facts. The successful memoirist respects facts, uses them accurately, rigorously represses the human impulse to lie or embellish but knows that truth is both different from facts and greater than facts, and not always their sum.” ~ The Art of the Personal Essay, B.R.
~M.
UPDATE:
See, I wrote this about forty five minutes ago and I didn’t even tell you the whole truth in my carefully crafted lines about stories and storytelling.
Here is the whole truth. I’m terrified to write the rest of my story. It’s hard to write about. Really hard. And am I doing it justice? And WHO CARES about my story? And is Jesus in it? And a flood of other thoughts that are arresting my pen at the moment. My October series are jumper cables on the keyboard because my tongue is thick in my throat and I get can’t get the truth past my fear of telling it wrong and UNtrue. AND, I keep reading all these beautiful wordsmiths who paint masterpieces and I am FAILING at understanding where I fit in and where do my stick figures hang in this art gallery of story and life and emotions and redemption. So that’s the rest of my truth tonight.
I am thankful that you share your story. It is grace to me here in AR at midnight on my phone with my glass of wine and mountain of laundry.
Hey there! I understand about the part where you say ” WHO CARES about my story”. I have thought that before too. Once I wrote this blog post for Father’s Day, and I almost deleted it as I thought who cares about reading what I wrote about my dad? After all we are not celebrities. I told myself this was a tribute for him to read and who cares if my readers read it or not. Ironically, that story caught the attention of an author who wanted to do an interview with me. HA! So- you never know. People may care lots. You could write a story that could touch the masses! I wish you the best of luck with your book ( I am writing one too) and I bet you will make a difference to many.
I thought the way you weaved words together was beautiful! Keep writing!
thank you for this. stopped by from #fmf and am moved by your words and by your own compelling to write and to tell the true story of what God is doing, has done, will do in your lives as He moves. and as a total stranger, let me tell you: the answer is yes. yes, your story matters, yes, Jesus is in it (i can see that in one post) and yes, you are brave enough to tell it. as someone who some days sits mute before the screen and journal and wonders…the answer is yes.
You have a gift for writing and keep it up. I love reading your articles.
One of my professors was from Morocco, and he’d tell us about the tradition of storytelling and how the rise of modern technology changed the places where stories were told. (This was a class in Sociolinguistics.) I think that we all have stories that we want to tell, and truth we want to say… 😉 Prayers for grace for you. And I am still contemplating the 31 Days with the Nester…but like you, I’m not sure I could hack it. We’ll see….
Stopped by from #FMF. Beautiful writing- word weaving. And every story is important, because the Lord of all is woven into it, weaving His own story into yours. God bless you and grant you courage!