Something I would never lose
What are your stories? Our stories are who we are, what we believe, our hopes and dreams. They are our shared history, and our links with others. Our stories outlive us, inspire us, comfort us and warn us.
I was reflecting on the power of stories this week, and how we use them. When a friend announced that she was pregnant with her first child, everyone there shared her experiences with childbirth. At the engagement of another friend, we all talked about our own engagements, weddings and marriages. And when someone introduced her new partner, we immediately related how we met our partners. All our shared experiences.
We comfort each other with tales of the lives of those we lost, of the difficulties we survived and of where we got inspiration. When I was first diagnosed, one dear friend shared with me his mother’s case, telling me that she had survived 15 years (at that time) when she was expected to live maybe 4 months. Another told of his battle with pancreatic cancer, and we were able to celebrate his 10th anniversary post-diagnosis. Sharing memories with friends and family is healing.
The stories that we retell also say a lot about us. They show us who are our heroes... who we want to emulate. My real-life heroes were largely family members, especially the women in the family. I’ve often told stories of my grandmother raising her 3 girls after the death of my grandfather, and the effect this had on me — the importance of being financially aware and self-sufficient. My fictional heroes were all smart, adventurous and caring. There weren’t very many women in the books I read, but those who were featured had strong personalities and were content in themselves. They were also generally unmarried and “blue stockings” which were societally negatives but it didn’t impede their lives. I’ve never understood, actually, why being highly educated and independent were seen as detrimental to femininity, but that’s for another time.
We also share the lessons of how to handle difficulties. We go to others to learn from their experiences, to be able to improve on the past. We tell of past hurts and wrongs to ensure that they are not repeated, and to settle past debts. The stories that we share of the road we walked are meant to help others avoid the pitfalls. When we consider, for instance, that women weren’t allowed to work after marriage — within the last century— and that women had limited options for jobs, the stories remind us of what we’ve overcome. The stories of not being hired because of colour, or not being admitted to schools, show us that we have moved forward. We work now to ensure that those days never return, and to continue evolving.
Our stories also speak of our dreams, and the future we want. Nobody’s dream speaks of misery, loss or pain; we want the best for ourselves and those we love. We need to form webs to protect against the people whose joy comes from hurting others. This isn’t always easy, and sometimes it’s just impossible. But misery doesn’t last forever. There’s a lovely verse in the psalms (30) which reads “weeping may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” We want our lives to be full of joy and prosperity, surrounded by people who love us. To get there, we need to work on building community, supporting and encouraging each other.
I’ve heard my share of echoes of doom, with tales of prejudice, hatred, anger and pain. I’ve also told some of my own. On balance, they are not as frequent, or as important, as the support and encouragement that come from the people around me. I hold on to these as my link to the light, and I will do my part to keep that link strong.
I was reflecting on the power of stories this week, and how we use them. When a friend announced that she was pregnant with her first child, everyone there shared her experiences with childbirth. At the engagement of another friend, we all talked about our own engagements, weddings and marriages. And when someone introduced her new partner, we immediately related how we met our partners. All our shared experiences.
We comfort each other with tales of the lives of those we lost, of the difficulties we survived and of where we got inspiration. When I was first diagnosed, one dear friend shared with me his mother’s case, telling me that she had survived 15 years (at that time) when she was expected to live maybe 4 months. Another told of his battle with pancreatic cancer, and we were able to celebrate his 10th anniversary post-diagnosis. Sharing memories with friends and family is healing.
The stories that we retell also say a lot about us. They show us who are our heroes... who we want to emulate. My real-life heroes were largely family members, especially the women in the family. I’ve often told stories of my grandmother raising her 3 girls after the death of my grandfather, and the effect this had on me — the importance of being financially aware and self-sufficient. My fictional heroes were all smart, adventurous and caring. There weren’t very many women in the books I read, but those who were featured had strong personalities and were content in themselves. They were also generally unmarried and “blue stockings” which were societally negatives but it didn’t impede their lives. I’ve never understood, actually, why being highly educated and independent were seen as detrimental to femininity, but that’s for another time.
We also share the lessons of how to handle difficulties. We go to others to learn from their experiences, to be able to improve on the past. We tell of past hurts and wrongs to ensure that they are not repeated, and to settle past debts. The stories that we share of the road we walked are meant to help others avoid the pitfalls. When we consider, for instance, that women weren’t allowed to work after marriage — within the last century— and that women had limited options for jobs, the stories remind us of what we’ve overcome. The stories of not being hired because of colour, or not being admitted to schools, show us that we have moved forward. We work now to ensure that those days never return, and to continue evolving.
Our stories also speak of our dreams, and the future we want. Nobody’s dream speaks of misery, loss or pain; we want the best for ourselves and those we love. We need to form webs to protect against the people whose joy comes from hurting others. This isn’t always easy, and sometimes it’s just impossible. But misery doesn’t last forever. There’s a lovely verse in the psalms (30) which reads “weeping may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” We want our lives to be full of joy and prosperity, surrounded by people who love us. To get there, we need to work on building community, supporting and encouraging each other.
I’ve heard my share of echoes of doom, with tales of prejudice, hatred, anger and pain. I’ve also told some of my own. On balance, they are not as frequent, or as important, as the support and encouragement that come from the people around me. I hold on to these as my link to the light, and I will do my part to keep that link strong.
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