The story is beginning. The grandkids gather round. The granddaughter leans her head back onto grandma’s knees. This is not a new story. This, they have heard all their lives, that is why they love it. The echo of when their parents were children, when they were naughty, too. Sticking pins in a leather chair just to hear the sounds of the holes with an angelic face to get pass everyone but their parents. To know that big people were little, too. “Just like us” the story says, weaving into their bones, connecting them to all who came before. To a time without electricity, when grandpa was a little boy hiding stolen baker’s chocolate in his mouth
The story could have been summed up in about ten words, but when she ran into the house, she was sweaty and breathless. There was a lot of detail in her mind, but when she spewed out the story, it was all disjointed. Her mother made her sit down and drink some water. “Now, start all over again.”
Chanpheng
Ha! Story is what happens and when and where. It is what tells truth. Story gives meaning but it isn’t a definition.
Shannon
This is a story. A story with so many possible endings. A story with a simple beginning, with all the hope and promise of many pages left to turn. Promises from the Author, who holds the pen, and breathes the breath of life into His characters. This is a story. And isn’t it beautiful?
The story is beginning. The grandkids gather round. The granddaughter leans her head back onto grandma’s knees. This is not a new story. This, they have heard all their lives, that is why they love it. The echo of when their parents were children, when they were naughty, too. Sticking pins in a leather chair just to hear the sounds of the holes with an angelic face to get pass everyone but their parents. To know that big people were little, too. “Just like us” the story says, weaving into their bones, connecting them to all who came before. To a time without electricity, when grandpa was a little boy hiding stolen baker’s chocolate in his mouth
The story could have been summed up in about ten words, but when she ran into the house, she was sweaty and breathless. There was a lot of detail in her mind, but when she spewed out the story, it was all disjointed. Her mother made her sit down and drink some water. “Now, start all over again.”
Ha! Story is what happens and when and where. It is what tells truth. Story gives meaning but it isn’t a definition.
This is a story. A story with so many possible endings. A story with a simple beginning, with all the hope and promise of many pages left to turn. Promises from the Author, who holds the pen, and breathes the breath of life into His characters. This is a story. And isn’t it beautiful?