We need stories to stay alive
A businessman walks the airport concourse, on his way to baggage claim. His flight is late in arriving, and his mood is melancholy. This is the end of a long business trip; his energy spent and his emotions raw. If not for the late arrival, he’d head to the local pub for a nightcap.
On the flight, he reads a book about business and “realizing success”. About how to make your life really matter. He liked its emotional and motivational intensity, and made a mental list of his own life priorities and goals. And of all the places he had fallen short. And where, and how, he needed to improve.
He picked up his suitcase and knew that if he was lucky, and the timing worked with the airport parking shuttle, he’d be home by nine. He would be there in time to say good night to his daughter Leia. He smiled and quickened his steps.
It had been a longstanding ritual; after each of his business trips, he would bring his daughter a gift, some token of his trip, some reminder that he thought of her. Or, more truthfully, some way to make up for the fact that he was gone.
During his layover (in a sprawling Texas airport), he stopped in one of the souvenir shops (designed for forgetful or bored or guilt-ridden travelers), and picked up a t-shirt with a picture of a funny looking armadillo.
“What size is right for a six-year-old girl?” he asked the clerk.
“Is that all you’re buying?” She shrugged and said, “Credit or cash?”
Just a few minutes before nine, the businessman pulled his car into his driveway. He dropped his suitcase at the door, kissed his wife and headed for his daughter’s room.
“Daddy,” she said, “We waited up. Mom said it was okay. We’re so glad to see you. We made a space. Come sit here with T-Bear and me, and let us hug you.”
He leaned over, gave his daughter a kiss, and lifted the gift shop sack onto the bed. “I brought you something.”
“That’s okay Daddy.” She said. “Tonight T-Bear and I don’t need anything. We just want you to sit here with us, and tell us a story. All we want, is one good story.”
He hugged his daughter and kissed T-bear on the head, not altogether sure about the protocol for kissing teddy bears. He was quiet for a good deal of time, enjoying the warmth of his daughter as she leaned against his chest, the reassurance of her cadenced breathing and the sweet fragrance of her hair and shampoo.
He forgot about the book he read on the plane.
He forgot about the list he made to maximize success.
He forgot about the expectations and goals that awaited him on his office desk.
He rested.
And he knew: this moment alone, matters.
This sacred moment.
“I missed you and T-Bear,” he said. And then he began, “Okay. I have just the story. Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there lived a princess. Princess Leia. She looked a lot like you.”
“Oh Daddy,” Leia said, “I think this is going to be a good story.”
“Remember on this one thing, said Badger. The stories people tell have a way of taking care of them. If stories come to you, care for them. And learn to give them away where they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive. That is why we put these stories in each other’s memories. This is how people care for themselves.” (Barry Lopez, Crow and Weasel)
Yes. Because here’s the deal: there is a power in stories that ground us—stories that remind us who we are. From that grounded place (I like to think of it as rich garden dirt), grows hope and gratitude. Grows courage and resilience. Grows compassion and kindheartedness.
Stories that can be too easily battered by the undercurrent of the non-essential.
But Terry, life is not easy for so many people. And there are some not good things happening. And plates are full, and people are overwhelmed. Yes indeed.
And as a young pastor, when people came to me with issues (fears, struggles), I was quick to point out the triggers, and had a ready list, with ideas and solutions. And I completely missed the point… “We just want you to sit here with us, and tell us a story.”
We are wired to want answers, solutions—or assignments with resolutions. And we miss the grounding and healing power of story.
Storytelling has been used for centuries to heal, teach, and connect communities. Indigenous cultures have long recognized its therapeutic and healing power.
Jesus knew this. And he told stories (parables). Stories that make a difference in our lives and world.
And this I know: In a world where empathy is considered a weakness, and cruelty is palpable, and marginalization takes a toll, we need stories.
We need stories about people who care—about empathy and compassion and forgiveness.
Stories about people who come back for us—and protect (safeguard) presence and inclusion.
Stories about people who see hope, and spill light.
Stories about people who give, even from “empty” pockets.
Did you know that research shows we’re 22 times more likely to remember information presented in a story, compared to plain facts. As Daniel Kahneman said, “no one ever made a decision because of a number; they need a story.” No surprise really. Stories activate so many regions of the brain; visual processing, emotional empathy, and social cognition. (And a good reminder for anyone who’s writing or preaching a homily or sermon. Just sayin’.)
On this Sunday, we light the second Advent candle, Peace. And remember the journey to Bethlehem. Journey is the perfect metaphor, reminding me of my pilgrimages—where destination is not the primary concern.
And tomorrow—December 8—I will blow out 71 candles. Well, maybe three, and call it good.
Quote for your week…
Our true home is in the present moment. The miracle is not to walk on water. The miracle is to walk on the green earth in the present moment. Peace is all around us—in the world and in nature—and within us; in our bodies and our spirits. Thich Nhat Hanh
I am so very grateful that you are a part of Sabbath Moment. And grateful for the support that makes it possible. Please, pass Sabbath Moment on to friends. And invite them to join us.
In the New Year I’ll be on the road again, my first event will be in Northern California. A retreat you don’t want to miss. And if you’re not in the neighborhood, let a friend know about it. January 23 – 25 at Mercy Center in Auburn, California. Our subject: Soul Gardening. I’ll see some of you there.
BULLETIN BOARD
Today’s Photo Credit: “Hello Terry, That photo today (December 4th SM) is from Smith Rock in Central Oregon just outside Redmond. It really is spectacular. I woke up too early today with a lingering cough from a cold that hasn’t quite left me. When I surrendered to the early hour, then I could soak in the incredibly bright moonlight with the Cold Moon at its fullest today. A soak in the tub never hurts and by the time I got into the kitchen, I could see the color of dawn in the east, just starting. By now, it’s a rosy glow. The crows are already cawing. It won’t be long before a couple of them plus two jays will be on my fence trying to catch my eye for peanuts. The blessings that come with an unexpected early rising. Believe it or not, I still have some roses blooming here in the East Bay. Attached is an ‘after the rain’ photo from last month. And always, I offer my thanks to you for sharing SM.”
Mary Ajideh… Thank you Mary… Thank you to all, I love your photos… please, keep sending them… send to terryhersheyster@gmail.com
Yes, your gift makes a difference… Donation = Love…
Help make Sabbath Moment possible. I write SM because I want to live with a soft heart; to create a place for sanctuary, empathy, inclusion, compassion and kindness… a space where we are refueled to make a difference. SM remains free.
(Address by check: PO Box 65336, Port Ludlow, WA 98365)
POEM AND PRAYER
This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.
Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.
If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.
John O’Donohue
To Bless the Space Between Us
A prayer of shelter and shadow
Ar scáth a chéile a mhaireas na daoine.
– It is in the shelter of each other that the people live.
– It is in the shadow of each other that the people live.
We know that sometimes we are alone,
and sometimes we are in community.
Sometimes we are in shadow,
and sometimes we are surrounded by shelter.
Sometimes we feel like exiles –
in our land, in our languages and in our bodies.
And sometimes we feel surrounded by welcome.
As we seek to be human together,
may we share the things that do not fade:
generosity, truth-telling, silence, respect and love.
And may the power we share
be for the good of all.
We honour God, the source of this rich life.
And we honour each other, story-full and lovely.
Whether in our shadow or in our shelter,
may we live well
and fully
with each other.
Amen.
Pádraig Ó Tuama
(Daily Prayer with the Corrymeela Community)
