Do I have to Remember?
I've always wondered when telling the story results in getting struck in the story. When I use to go home more often and see old friends, I became more and more amazed that the stories shared were all of the old days. It seemed that as we got older, be came stuck in the story, and stuck in the past, not really moving forward. As I grew and became more of who my Creator made me to be (and man do I have a long way to go), I also grew past the story. My life became more than the story and I began to separate myself more from the teller. What I mean here is that these particular stories were keeping me in the past, in a time that was no longer, to a person who was no longer and who I quite frankly no longer wanted or recognized. The story became unhealthy and if I remained in it, I would become equally unhealthy.
I suppose some stories, and maybe even most stories, that are descriptive of our lives, are stories that no longer really serve a purpose, becoming meaningless. I wonder that if in our fear we are afraid that if we lose the story, if we stop living in it, we will lose how we see the self. I have to wonder to a greater degree if our real fear is more that we will lose the happier memories of who we once were, or how we once understood the world, or how those we love or loved once were. The difference appears to be escape from the present into the past versus leaving the past and living in the present. Maybe some stories give us more peace than the reality of our lives. But then again, escaping from our reality is something we humans do so often, and do so well.
So when does telling the story serve the betterment of our lives, of our souls, of our future? I have discovered that when I tell the story of my father and live in the memory of his last 10 years, I find strength to make life impacting changes in my own life, to learn from his wisdom. His story also reminds me of his struggles and of him coming to term with "those other people", accepting forgiveness and giving it freely to others, of the first time he told me he loved me. When I tell the story of my mother and what to me was her complete devotion and love to me, always, throughout my life, reminds me just how important I am to the first woman who loved me. When I tell the story of meeting my wife and our struggles, it reminds me of the power of a praying woman who prayed for a man to love her (yes, for those of you who know me, God does have a sense of humor as seen by choosing me to fulfill my wifes prayer) and how her prayers unknowingly changed us both, to two people who can live in complete peace with each other. Telling the story of my son and daughter clearly reveals the power of a most mighty and awesome God who proved the lack of faith of man.
I grew up in stories of brave men fighting awful wars, watching Vietnam on the news, of a persecuted race still finding its spirit, of people long gone who in their death, affected and changed my life. I watch the few remaining WWII veterans every year honoring those who fell to give me the freedom and land I have today. I read the stories of men and women who fought to spread the words of my Savior, and I read Gods word in the freedom of my home, my parks, my car, and really anywhere I want. And so many other stories.
Today, we tell the story again of September 11, 2001. And I for one will tell this story all my life. Not to bring pain or anger or hatred, but to honor those have fallen and will continue to fall, just as my ancestors before me have told the story. I will tell the story because it needs to be told, because it is real, because the lives of the story need it told. I will not tell the story to stay rooted in the past, but to embrace my future, to remember the pain of life, to learn and grow and protect what God has given me, in my life and in my family. I will tell the story because yes, again, it needs to be told.
So stories can keep you rooted in the past, preventing growth, wisdom, and knowledge, or they can drive you into your future, knowing where you've been, direct where you'll go, and guiding you away from where you should never be, or never return to again. Forgetting the story of irrelevance can be freeing, forgetting the story of significance can be destructive.
What stories do you need to let go, to stop talking about, to move from the past, and what stories do you need to hold on to, to grow from, to tell, always. The story is yours, as well as its consequences, good or bad.
I suppose some stories, and maybe even most stories, that are descriptive of our lives, are stories that no longer really serve a purpose, becoming meaningless. I wonder that if in our fear we are afraid that if we lose the story, if we stop living in it, we will lose how we see the self. I have to wonder to a greater degree if our real fear is more that we will lose the happier memories of who we once were, or how we once understood the world, or how those we love or loved once were. The difference appears to be escape from the present into the past versus leaving the past and living in the present. Maybe some stories give us more peace than the reality of our lives. But then again, escaping from our reality is something we humans do so often, and do so well.
So when does telling the story serve the betterment of our lives, of our souls, of our future? I have discovered that when I tell the story of my father and live in the memory of his last 10 years, I find strength to make life impacting changes in my own life, to learn from his wisdom. His story also reminds me of his struggles and of him coming to term with "those other people", accepting forgiveness and giving it freely to others, of the first time he told me he loved me. When I tell the story of my mother and what to me was her complete devotion and love to me, always, throughout my life, reminds me just how important I am to the first woman who loved me. When I tell the story of meeting my wife and our struggles, it reminds me of the power of a praying woman who prayed for a man to love her (yes, for those of you who know me, God does have a sense of humor as seen by choosing me to fulfill my wifes prayer) and how her prayers unknowingly changed us both, to two people who can live in complete peace with each other. Telling the story of my son and daughter clearly reveals the power of a most mighty and awesome God who proved the lack of faith of man.
I grew up in stories of brave men fighting awful wars, watching Vietnam on the news, of a persecuted race still finding its spirit, of people long gone who in their death, affected and changed my life. I watch the few remaining WWII veterans every year honoring those who fell to give me the freedom and land I have today. I read the stories of men and women who fought to spread the words of my Savior, and I read Gods word in the freedom of my home, my parks, my car, and really anywhere I want. And so many other stories.
Today, we tell the story again of September 11, 2001. And I for one will tell this story all my life. Not to bring pain or anger or hatred, but to honor those have fallen and will continue to fall, just as my ancestors before me have told the story. I will tell the story because it needs to be told, because it is real, because the lives of the story need it told. I will not tell the story to stay rooted in the past, but to embrace my future, to remember the pain of life, to learn and grow and protect what God has given me, in my life and in my family. I will tell the story because yes, again, it needs to be told.
So stories can keep you rooted in the past, preventing growth, wisdom, and knowledge, or they can drive you into your future, knowing where you've been, direct where you'll go, and guiding you away from where you should never be, or never return to again. Forgetting the story of irrelevance can be freeing, forgetting the story of significance can be destructive.
What stories do you need to let go, to stop talking about, to move from the past, and what stories do you need to hold on to, to grow from, to tell, always. The story is yours, as well as its consequences, good or bad.
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