A story to tell….

Yesterday, one of my colleagues at work said she wants to write a book. That excited me. To be honest, as a writer, I do get people saying that quite a lot. We all know the theory – ‘everyone has a book in them’ and all that – and a lot of people do seem to aspire to writing.  And my advice every time? Just do it! Get started. Sit down and write. And that’s the hardest part of course. Most people unfortunately never get past that point.  So come on Nichola, prove me wrong! You can do it!

I have a friend who wants to write in depth about her own life journey; another who wants to start with the lives of her parents. Because deep down, we all know we have a story to tell. We want the opportunity to tell our story and to be listened to and remembered. That’s why there are so many autobiographies out there and why so many of us love reading them. Because individual lives matter. Individual lives are fascinating. And taking time to tell our story or listen to someone else’s is so important.

Here’s one I listened to and wrote up for an assembly (from the point of view of a young person, not me!) – the story of a lady from our church…Joan Flowers…some of you will have had the privilege of knowing her for yourselves –

I used to think Joan was a boring old woman. Not any more. What a fascinating lady she really is!

Joan was only four when her Mum died. As the coffin was lowered into the ground, no-one would answer this frightened little girl as she asked “When are they going to bring her back up again?”

At six, she had an encounter with an angel who protected her from the boys in the street as she walked home with a chicken in her hand for her grandmother.

At ten, she was evacuated from her home with her younger sister. Treated like cattle on the trains and like slaves on the farm, Joan and her sister lived on margarine and bread. They were not allowed in the rest of the house with the family. They had to wash their own clothes. Every Saturday morning, Joan had to shake the cream from the top of the milk in a jam jar until it turned into butter. Every Saturday she washed all the floors. Every Sunday she polished all the floors. When Joan tried to take her sister home, she found it was not their house anymore. Her father had been killed in Dunkirk and her grandmother had sold the house.

I used to think Joan was a interfering old woman. Not any more. What a caring lady she really is!

As a child, she protected her sister as best she could. They were sent to live with a dirty old man with a dirty old shed on his allotment full of dirty magazines.

At eleven, she just wanted to die. She had no-one looking after her. Then a young minister and his wife came to her rescue and restored her soul. “Let someone look after you for a change”, they would say.

She worked for eighteen years as a school dinner lady because she wanted to be there everyday for her boys when they got home from school.

She cooked for thirty people for over ten years at the Lunch Club. Helpers in her kitchen would say “Joan will shout but at least it’s not chaos”. It wasn’t that she wanted everything done her way, she just wanted it done right. She wanted to provide the best.

I used to think Joan was a stubborn old woman. Not any more. What a strong lady she really is!

As a single parent in the sixties, she was determined to bring up her three boys well to prove all her critics wrong.

The fact is, if Joan hadn’t have been strong, she wouldn’t still be here now.

Having been attacked by cancer in the bowel, lungs, mouth and now bones, she could have given up long ago.

Having endured chemotherapy and radiotherapy, she could have said enough is enough.

But Joan will not be beaten.

I used to think Joan was an old woman. Not any more. What a young spirit she has inside!

Joan might be eighty-one but she only feels old when she looks in the mirror. She enjoys remembering what it was to be young, being chased out of the park by the park keeper

The child in her is still excited about seeing the Christmas display in the department store window.

She tries not to grumble. She thanks God for looking after her. She treats each new day as a gift.

Joan had some great stories to tell. I loved listening to her. And of course, the truth is we all have great stories. Every life is a great story.

That’s why it’s so exciting to have the little book of Ruth in the Bible sandwiched between the huge Books of the Law and Judges and Samuel and Kings and Chronicles…..all books about the story of a nation……..because her individual story matters. Yes, it’s part of the wider story – she is King David’s great-grandmother, after all! – but it is a personal story of love and redemption and provision and protection.

On April 1st, I wrote –

So…the Book of Ruth…..it’s a bit of a shock, coming as it does after all the tales of evil and bloodshed and immorality and idolatry that make up the Book of Judges. It turns our attention from a whole nation to the story of one woman. It is gentle. It introduces us to ordinary individuals with an overwhelming sense of God’s involvement in their lives, ordinary individuals displaying God’s love and kindness in the midst of tragedy and hardship. It’s a love story with a strong sense of commitment to family and friends.

Since then, we’ve had a closer look at the story. And since then, I’ve been thinking about how my individual story fits in to the bigger picture – the stories of my family, my friends, my work, my church, my community, my nation, my planet and ultimately the whole of human history!

I too can be an ordinary individual with an overwhelming sense of God’s involvement in my life. I too can be an ordinary individual displaying God’s love and kindness in the midst of tragedy and hardship. I too can live a love story with a strong sense of commitment to family and friends.

I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.

Because so can you! Your story matters. Your life matters. As your own personal journey as well as part of the wider stories going on all around you.

If we all could live every day in the reality of this knowledge, how different would our lives be?!?

I hope you get the opportunity to tell some of your story today to someone who will listen.

And I hope you take the opportunity to be someone who listens.

Because our stories really do matter and really do need to be told and really do need to be heard.