Sharing your stories with your family: The most important job in the world

Do you worry about influences on your kids, grandkids, and great-grands?—influences that lure them away from your best hopes and dreams and prayers for them?

Less-than-stellar influencers bombard today’s young people, enticing them to live and believe in ways that could diminish them morally, spiritually, personally, mentally, and relationally.

Today’s kids are listening to the stories of movie stars, athletes, singers, podcasters, comedians, the press, educators, politicians, authors, friends, and paranormal characters in books and movies.

If you worry about the stories your kids, grandkids, and great-grands listen to, how about telling them your stories?

There’s a good reason the Bible is full of stories. There’s a reason Jesus told parables.

Never doubt the power of stories!

Kathy Edens writes,

“Research proves that stories and anecdotes

help people retain information better.

Forbes reported most people only remember

about 5-10% of statistics you cite.

But when you accompany your stats with a story,

the retention rate bounces up to 65-70%.”

Wow! Did you know that? That’s impressive. Read that again!

For example, if you want to teach your grandkids the importance of telling the truth, you can tell them, “It’s important to always tell the truth, and you can get yourself into tons of trouble if you lie,” but your words will probably go in one ear and out the other.

OR, you can tell them a story—a story of how you, or someone you know, learned the importance of honesty, and the consequences of dishonesty.

Your stories can teach your kids, grandkids, and great-grands many important things—about keeping a commitment, being faithful, working hard, being kind.

Your stories can teach them to handle tragedies with tenacity and faith.

Your stories can help them choose courage over fear, generosity over stinginess, compassion over meanness, thankfulness over ingratitude, and so much more.   

 “The world’s greatest wisdom passes through stories,” writes Kathy Edens.

Think about this:

The world’s greatest wisdom

can flow through your stories!

If you’re still not convinced of your stories’ importance, here’s something else for you. It’s staggering, really.

In fact, this is a big deal.

In his New York Times article, “The Stories that Bind Us,” Bruce Feiler explores, from a secular perspective, what makes families healthy, resilient, happy, and functional.

He writes that Dr. Sara Duke, a psychologist working with children, discovered that while all families have struggles, “The [kids] who know a lot about their families tend to do better when they face challenges,” she says.

Fascinated with Dr. Sara’s findings, her husband, Marshall, also a psychologist, and his colleague, Robyn Fuvish, did their own research on how much individual kids knew stories of their family’s history and its members—parents and grandparents, for example—and how much they knew of their family’s struggles as well as its triumphs.

They came to what Feiler calls “an overwhelming conclusion: The more children knew about their family’s history, the stronger their sense of control over their own lives, the higher their self-esteem and the more successfully they believed their families functioned.”

Shortly after that research, the United States experienced the attack on September 11, 2001, and Dr. Duke and his team checked again on the children they’d studied. None was directly impacted by the terrorist attack yet each one, like the rest of us, still suffered trauma. Nevertheless, “Once again . . .” Dr. Duke found, “the ones who knew more about their families proved to be more resilient, meaning they could moderate the effects of stress.”

Don’t miss the rest of Feiler’s article, “The Stories that Bind Us.” You’ll find that youngsters who felt the most connected to their families—through stories of both ups and downs, and of their determination to survive and thrive—were the kids who could handle challenges and overcome obstacles in healthy ways.

There’s a good reason Jesus said,

“Go tell your family everything God has done for you.”

(Luke 8:39)

That means you need to tell your stories!

And this is important: Avoid writing stories that are dry. Or dreary. Or preachy—avoid a “holier-than-thou” attitude.

DO write stories that include humor, adventure, mystery, romance, pets, childhood escapades, teenage pranks, athletic competitions, parenthood, hard work—the list could go on and on.

“We are storytellers,” writes Carolina Hinojosa-Cisneros. “With the help of God, it is up to us to steward our calling and steward it well.”

Think about this:

What stories have been entrusted to you?

And perhaps even more important:

Who has God entrusted to you?

And are you stewarding them—caring for them—

to the very best of your ability?

“. . . Everyone needs writers—

every child, every woman, every man—

to bring out these hidden truths

that lie dormant in us and help them

live what truly matters in life.

Writers have all got to work hard

at this occupation—

for the glory of people

and our most cherished beliefs and ideas.

To fight to ignore all the distractions

and take the time to share our stories

and unpack their meaning and messages. . . .

It’s the most important job in the world.”

Mick Silva

Be good stewards of your experiences and stories.

Do what Jesus said: Go tell your family all God has done for you.

Your stories could be life-changing for those who read them.

On vulnerability, success, failure, and hope

Let’s read that last part again. “Editors don’t want [and I add: readers don’t want] stories of our great triumphs or successes. Readers identify with failure and find hope in rising above mistakes.”

And then look at this again: “Everything pivots around our vulnerability” (Cecil Murphey and Twila Belk). How do you feel inside when you read those words?

My writer friend, Sharon Lippincott, author of The Heart and Craft of Lifestory Writing, says:

“Easier to say than do, but Amen to this. . . .

Be brave, y’all.

Write the real story.”

Sharon’s right. It’s painful to be vulnerable with our readers. It can be heart-rending to write about our shortcomings and failures.

In fact, it’s often even harder to re-live those experiences in order to write them.

But that’s where the gold is.

That’s where we discover

we’ve grown from the experience, we’ve matured,

we’ve become different, better people.

And that’s what readers want from you.

Memoir is all about transformation.

Write your stories.

You might inspire someone

who has also failed and longs to transform—

to hope that he, like you,

can grow and mature

and live as a different, better person.

What a privilege!

Cecil Murphey and Twila Belk have retired 

but you can still find them on Facebook.

What stories could they tell?

“Stories are all around us,” writes Glenda Bonin.

“They reside in people, places and things, and are waiting to be discovered.”

So true.

Not just stories: God-and-you stories.

Take a fresh look at possessions you could never give away or throw out.

What do you store in a special drawer or safe deposit box?

What would you stash in a safe place if tornado sirens sounded? What would you grab if your smoke alarm went off?

Look around and identify something you’ve owned for years and use a lot.

If those items could talk, what would they tell?

I think about that question—a lot.

A few years ago I gave away a set of dishes to a family that lost everything in a fire. I tucked a note inside that read:

“I bought these dishes in Africa and we used them during our seventh and eighth years there, and here in the States all these years since then. While you use them, ask yourself, ‘If these dishes could talk, what stories would they tell?’”

Some day I want to write—I need to write—stories based on my old blue American Tourister carry-on bag (a gift from Schiefelbeins in 1993—thanks Rick and Marilyn!).

That bag has traveled with us for 27 years now—from this planet’s most primitive places to the world’s most sophisticated cities. What stories it could tell! Not just stories, but God-and-me-stories.

What stories could my husband’s grandmother’s aluminum colander tell? My mother-in-law passed it on to me 53 years ago. And yes, it could tell stories—stories about five generations so far. My daughter has asked me to pass it on to her eventually. Who knows how many more generations will tell stories about it?

Look at your dining room table. Ask yourself, “If it could talk, what stories would it tell?” (Click to read two of my posts, Vera Bachman’s Table, and Your dinner table memories.)

“If these old boots could talk, what stories would they tell?” (See my recent post about my safari boots at The dust of Africa had penetrated my skin pores and entered into my soul.)

If your old Bible could talk, what stories would it tell?

What about a photo? A photo album? A book?

A washing machine?

A piece of art? Jewelry? A scarf?

Your dad’s old hat?

Your mother’s old coffee mug?

Your grandmother’s rocking chair?

Your old high school yearbook?

“Don’t be timid about interviewing yourself and others,” continues Glenda.

“A good interviewer asks questions and waits for answers. . . . Listen deeply, allowing as much time as needed for quiet moments of thought. Do not rush in with a new question until you are satisfied that the question has been fully explored.

“It is not unusual for one question to lead to another. . . . These moments are often where the best family stories can be found. . . .” (Glenda Bonin at Storyteller.net)

Remember: while you’ve been using and cherishing those items, God has been alongside you, working in you, working on your behalf.

Stories are all around. 

You don’t need news-making miracles 

to witness God at work. 

He is in your everyday comings and goings.

Oswald Chambers says:

“We look for visions from heaven

and for earth-shaking events to see God’s power.

Yet we never realize that all the time

God is at work in our everyday events. . . .”

Write your stories!

Leave a legacy for your kids, grandkids, 

and great-grands!

A sobering reality for memoirists: Everyone’s dysfunctional

A person I respect and love dearly said one day, “Every family is dysfunctional. Every family.”

I said to myself That can’t be true.

But within seconds I realized she was correct. Each family is dysfunctional—each person is dysfunctional—some in big ways, some in smaller ways.

To complicate matters, we all have blind spots—we can’t see our own quirks—our malfunctions, aberrations, incongruities, blips, irregularities, inconsistencies, impairments, or distortions.

I give a huge shout-out to those who understand they have big or little imperfections as well as blind spots and who work hard to improve. I applaud you!

To those who are too proud to admit they could be dysfunctional, Thomas Larson suggests we examine where we’ve allowed self-delusion to shape our identities and memories (The Memoir and the Memoirist).

It’s easy to identify those with glaring malfunctions, and we need to write about some of those people in our memoirs.

But even the most functional people—the most “together” people—have little glitches that make them imperfect. We need to write about some of those people in our memoirs, too.

Think about the bosses you’ve had, people you’ve worked with, people you’ve traveled with, people you’ve lived with. College buddies, fellow cheerleaders, people you go to church with.

In even the finest of them you might see glimpses of being:

• controlling/bossy
• impatient
• gruff
• proud
• lacking in self-control
• narcissistic
• stretching the truth

Think about siblings, parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, in-laws, children, grandchildren. In even the finest of them, you might see hints of:

• being enablers
• having a “poor me” attitude, a victim mentality,
• being touchy/overreacting
• being aloof/underreacting
• snobbish
• bitter and unforgiving
• obsessed/addicted: spending money or eating/drinking/drugging to ease pain
• yielding to peer pressure, longing to fit in

Think of neighbors, best friends, doctors, bus drivers, CEOs, people who have married into your family. People in your Bible study or your book club or your writing group. In even the finest of them you might detect traces of them being:

• unpredictable/unreliable
• cowardly
• gullible
• vengeful
• prejudiced
• judgmental/holier-than-thou

People whose blogs you follow. Facebook friends, Twitter friends. In even the finest of them you might see glimpses of them being:

• power-hungry
• overly competitive
• defined by their appearances, accomplishments, possessions
• insecure
• driven

Even people we love with all our hearts

have at least mild shortcomings—

spouses, parents, siblings, kids,

grandkids, in-laws, best friends.

But here’s the sobering part: You and I are dysfunctional, too.

All those people we’ve been thinking about—our bosses, our co-workers, people we’ve traveled with, college buddies, people we go to church with—they have extended grace upon grace to you and to me despite our dysfunctions and our blindness to them.

Our siblings, parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, in-laws, children, grandchildren—they have all extended grace to us despite our offenses.

Our neighbors, best friends, doctors, bus drivers, people who have married into our families, people in our Bible study or book club or writing group—they have all extended grace to us despite our rough edges and flaws.

Since you are dysfunctional and I am dysfunctional,

let’s recognize the grace and longsuffering

others have extended to us.

Let’s be grateful for their patience and forgiveness,

for the second chances they’ve given us.

Let’s remember The Golden Rule,

doing unto others as you would have them do to you,

or, as it reads in The Living Bible:

“Treat others as we would want them to treat us”

(Luke 6:31, Matthew 7:12).

And in The Voice:

“Think of the kindness you wish others would show you;

do the same for them.”

Let’s write about them

in the way we’d like them to write about us.

Let’s offer others grace,

let’s be patient with them, forgive them,

and give them second chances in our hearts

as well as

in the way we write about them in our memoirs.

Your daily life: “Imagine the divine activities behind the scene”

In her Bible study, Esther, Beth Moore suggests that we “imagine the divine activities behind the scene[s].”

Those few words remind me of my challenge to all you memoirists writing stories with a spiritual dimension. You’ll often hear me say, “Connect your dots.”

By “connect your dots,” I mean this: Search for the ways God was involved in arranging the key events of your life, and then identify the ways He strings them together—how He “connects the dots.”

Beth continues, “If we could only see what is  happening around us in the unseen realm, our eyes would nearly pop out of socket. . . . So much that would thrill us lies beyond our sight. . . .”

Beth writes that God sometimes appears in the midst of a crisis “dressed in the best disguise of all: ordinary events. He tucks a miracle in the folds of His robe and sweeps in and out unnoticed.

“Only in retrospect do we realize that a divine visitation graced our cold, crude winter and the resurrection of spring is on its way.

“Sometimes we grab the hem of Christ’s garment for dear life. . . . Other times it brushes past us and we never recognize that the turn-around marking the months to come began with a single touch.”

She calls those events “so forgettably ordinary.”

So forgettable. So ordinary. Sigh.

That’s why memoirists must invest time in retrospection. That’s why memoirists must set aside time and make an effort to dig deeply into the past, to uncover, piece together, connect the dots, and make sense of what happened in the past.

Yes, that’s a lot of work—but, oh! The treasures you’ll discover!

Amy Carmichael wrote of new insights she received one day in reading Deuteronomy 11 when God was sending the Israelites to the land of milk and honey with the promise that “the eyes of the Lord your God are continually on [the land] from the beginning of the year to its end” (vs 12).

Amy wrote, “‘From the beginning of the year until the end of the year’—much is folded up in that. The day of the week, the hour of the day, every minute of the day, not one is outside His care.” (Edges of His Ways)

Think on those words

while you reflect and ponder and piece together your story—

while you connect your dots.

From the beginning to the end, God’s eye is on you.

Every minute.

“Never believe that the so-called random events of life are anything less than God’s appointed order. Be ready to discover His divine designs anywhere and everywhere.” (Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest)

You don’t need to be perfect to write a memoir, but you do need to be real

“Editors don’t want” [and I add: readers don’t want] “stories of our great triumphs or success. Readers identify with failure and find hope in rising above mistakes” (Cec and Me, with Cecil Murphey and Twila Belk).

You don’t need to be perfect to write a memoir.

But you do need to be real.

Readers want to identify with you.

They can do so if you’re willing

to be vulnerable—transparent—with them.

They read because they want to learn from you,

so write about your struggles, your flops, your fiascos.

Admit to your messes and debacles.

But don’t stop there!

Tell readers why and how you fought through your failures.

Tell them what kept you from giving up.

Tell them what gave you hope and resolve.

Tell them.

They need to know.

Why?

Because they want to grab hold of the same courage

and tenacity and faith and hope you chose.

They want to rise from the rubble like you did.

Write your stories!

Are you willing to share your story? “Convinced that this period in history would be judged one day, I knew that I must bear witness.”

We need stories about integrity, and courage, and perseverance, and about doing the right thing.

We need upright people who will speak truth to power, who will be a voice for those who have no voice, an advocate for the abused, neglected, and the downtrodden.

We need people who take seriously what we call the Golden Rule: Jesus’ words about doing unto others as we would have them do unto us—or as it says in the Living Bible: “Treat others as we would want them to treat us” (Luke 6:31, Matthew 7:12). In other words, “Think of the kindness you wish others would show you; do the same for them” (The Voice).

Imagine what it would be like for you

to be mistreated by those in power,

or for your voice to be silenced or ignored,

imagine what it’s like to be abused, overlooked,

disregarded, oppressed, and beaten down—

wouldn’t you want people to speak up?

We need stories written by people who are thinkers and questioners,

by people willing to look at issues from various angles,

people willing to step forward and take a stand,

willing to expose evil and injustice,

willing to be leaders and role models for so many of us

who are cowards—or at least foot-draggers.

Recently I read Jewish Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel’s memoir, Night.

You’ve no doubt heard about—and perhaps read—some of his books, but he says in the preface that “ . . . all my writings after Night . . . profoundly bear its stamp, and cannot be understood if one has not read this very first of my works.” If you haven’t read his memoir, I encourage you to do so.

Elie Wiesel shows us what it looks like to put into practice this quote from his Nobel Lecture, December 11, 1986, below:

Maybe God is calling you to follow Elie Wiesel’s lead by writing your memoir.

Perhaps you can recognize yourself in what Wiesel wrote in his preface, “Convinced that this period in history would be judged one day, I knew that I must bear witness.”

Yet he also knew his “testimony would not be received. After all, it deals with an event that sprang from the darkest zone of man. . . .

“But would they at least understand?

“Could men and women who consider it normal to assist the weak,

heal the sick, to protect small children,

and to respect the wisdom of their elders

understand what happened there?

“Would they be able to comprehend how . . .

the masters tortured the weak

and massacred the children, the sick, the old?”

“And yet, having lived through this experience, one could not keep silent no matter how difficult, if not impossible, it was to speak.

“And so I persevered. . . .” (from the Preface to the New Translation [of Night])

Persevering is hard work. It can be discouraging work. Sometimes dangerous work. Often emotionally exhausting work.

Pastor Brian, my son-in-law, recently said, “Choosing to live and act with faith is hard. Will we trust God?”

That’s the hard part:

Will you trust God to help you

say what others need to hear?

Ask Him to help you speak not judgmentally,

but with grace and mercy.

Ask Him to help you speak with wisdom instead of foolishness,

with love instead of hate,

with truth instead of distortions,

with a cool head instead of a hot head,

with winsome words instead of fiery words—

words that build up instead of tear down,

that heal instead of injure.

Words that shine light in the darkness.

In what specific ways will you trust God

to help you write what others need to read?