Tri-fold Book-1I’ve listed to a lot of stories this last week. Thankfully. They were a great amusement, comfort, and distraction as I waited for results of a medical procedure my husband was undergoing at a local hospital.

One of the disadvantages of moving away from long established relationships is that no one knows you story. One of the advantages of moving to a new area is that no one knows your stories. Those often told anecdotes that gift life with its rhythm, drama, and humor. I heard stories of skiing accidents where a heart surgeon skillfully sutured a facial wound so finely no scar remains. I heard stories of a navy man, lashed to the conning tower of a surfaced submarine, who was momentarily, though it seemed like a lifetime, submerged by a rouge wave. And the story of a prank pulled on a nurse by a patient who substituted ginger ale for his urine sample. When she worried that it looked a bit pale, the patient seized the beaker, drank it down to her horror, and said, “Let me run it through again.”

The stories were well crafted, stripped of the inessentials, allowing the drama of the event to build, the blood to drip, the ocean-swelling fear to register, the quasi-revulsion, see-it-coming recoil to mingle with laughter. What a way to spend the day with two new guy friends listening to one another’s stories. The books of our lives are filled with such artistry. Yet at the heart of each story is a crisis, a possible bad outcome…that ends, thankfully, with a good resolution. By swapping these ski and sea stories the guys were speaking hope into our story…even that hospitals can be a place for lightheartedness.

Our story? Though slightly more bionic, my husband is home, doing well, creating sawdust out in the garage, and making excellent progress on his Mississippi riverboat model. At the same time he is researching a more heart healthy diet…as well as more elaborate model ships. That’s our story…and we’re sticking to it.

What’s one of your stories that names a crises, suggests potential bad outcomes, and resolves well? Have you ever considered that as a story of hope that you might speak into another person’s story? Have you ever considered including that in a book of your spiritual story? If not, will you now?

PS – One of the sweet pieces of the story was being able to spend the afternoon and evening with someone who knows our stories – our daughter who loved us as a mother hen.

4 comments to Stories

  • Judy Siudara

    Title- The Brain Wave is Flat. a long story but that part had a very potentially lethal outcome- unplug the feeding tube and let her ( me) die in about 4 days. Blessedly, my husband Pete did not choose that option and in 61/2 months I woke up , with the same crazy brain wave as before the aneurysm! The telling of this story ,mostly on the train as I traveled back and forth every 2 weeks from So.Cal. to Central Valley, was significant to many who heard it. and there was ALWAYS someone who came into the range of hearing it every time I traveled up or back. and their stories back to me were just as powerful, although as different as could be many times. A reminder- when you tell a story, listen to the response from the hearer- it will tell you if he/she got it. wonderful post , Lynne. J.

  • Lori

    I am happy to hear that Robert is back in the garage crafting with wood, a true sign of healing of both body and mind! How scary for you, but thankful for the people God placed in your path to walk with you through this.

  • Karen Greenslate

    So Glad Robert is doing well….saw the pic of healthy ‘chips’ that you posted. We have been making an effort to eat for health…and I can say we are feeling the difference…and appreciating the effects. I can also say that TIME to chop, grate, wash and prepare fresh foods is a not my favorite factor.
    When I was 10, I was hospitalized in an Army Hospital in San Antonio, TExas. My parents lived at Fort Hood, too many miles to come to visit me very often. The challenge was my lungs: too many bouts with bronchial pneumonia (likely asthma). So doctors suggested they REMOVE my left lung. My mom, without too much hesitation or research, reacted. She said, “Absolutely not. Leave the lung to heal.” And three years later, my Dad was transferred from Germany (where I continued to be pretty sick) to White Sands, New MExico. In that desert, I healed up, and thrived. Since then, the desert has become for me, a place of healing, of rest, of beauty. Sure glad for Moms and their sometimes fierce, maybe uninformed, but from the heart reactions!

  • cynthia Hashbarger

    Lynne… Sorry to learn now that Robert has not been well. and pray he now is on the mend.. Perhaps garage time will be a good part of the healing. and the fun of wood working..
    .On another note. I was cleaning thru some of my boxes in the garage this week..and came across some of Thomas’s childhood and
    favorite books.. Time to pass them to his little girls Kate is 5 and Madeline 3.. and the very favorite of his now became their favorite..

    Remember The Little Engine that could? I thought I could.. I thought I could. I thought I could. so the years disappeared and we three had
    fun reading it over and over.. and I remembered that tow headed little boy of mind doing the same.. Happy day to you and Robert. Love, Cynthia

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