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Story Feast

Story Feast

A Story about Slowing Down to Give and Get a Hug

I was in a hurry.

My morning walk at Bayview Park had lasted a few minutes too long, and now I needed to get to my golf clinic. But first, I needed to make a restroom stop, and since the senior center at the park offered the closest clean restroom, I decided to run in there. 

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As I approached the building, a small freckle-faced woman with short gray hair held out her hand and smiled at me. “I’m Linda,” she said. 

I thought, “There must be an event here today, and maybe she’s the greeter. Or maybe she’s new and trying to meet people.” 

I stopped and shook her hand, smiling back. “I’m Elizabeth. How are you today?” 

She told me she was fine. Then I asked her if she was going to something inside the senior center this morning. 

She looked toward the door and said, “Yes, but it’s not quite time.” I then asked her if she had lived in Pensacola long, and she seemed a little uncertain. She said something about living in Brownsville, Texas, and that she had moved on the first day of the year…what did they call that? 

“New Year’s Day?” I asked. 

“Yes,” she said. 

By this point, I was thinking I really needed to hurry if I was going to make my golf clinic on time, and I said, “Well, it was nice meeting you.” 

She looked down and then looked back up at me, with the wistful look of a small child.

She said, “I’m a sad puppy today. Can I get a hug?” 

Oh my goodness. “Yes, you can get a hug,” I told her. And I folded my tall body around her small, fragile one, wishing for all the world that I could convey the comfort this precious lonely stranger needed in that brief moment. 

Why do I tell you this story?

Well, for several reasons. 

First, because it stopped me in my hurry. And I have been hearing the phrase, “Don’t hurry,” from the Holy Spirit, for months now. “Slow down, Elizabeth. What’s your hurry?” 

Slow down, Elizabeth, and you might just get to give a hug and get a hug from a stranger who might just be an angel. 

Slow down, Elizabeth, because there are a lot of people out there who need hugs. There are a lot of people out there, especially older ones, who might not have been touched in a long time, and they may just feel like “sad puppies.” 

Slow down, Elizabeth, and listen to some stories.

Slow down, Elizabeth, and tell some stories.

As I slow down to tell this story, I hope that too will slow down to remember some stories of your own. As you remember these stories, I hope you will share them with someone else. As you share them with someone else, I hope they will offer their stories too. And as this chain of sharing and listening to stories begins, it may just be like giving and getting hugs from the Holy Spirit. It may just remind you of God’s love for you and remind you of how you are called to love others. This daisy chain of stories may remind you of how God has rescued and redeemed you, and it may remind you of how he has sent you into the world to bring the hope of that redemption to others. 

Story Feasting

Long ago, I created a structure for story-sharing which I call Story Feasting. As I think about numbering our days, realizing that our days are indeed limited, it seems even more crucial to share our stories and to listen to others’ stories. As we share our stories, we have the opportunity to show people the goodness of God in our lives. As we listen to others’ stories, we give them the great gift of an encircling hug, the welcome of hearing their story, and the kindness of holding of their story in a safe place. 

Why not invite a few friends to your home or church or assisted living facility this summer to enjoy a story feast? Why not, when your family is gathered together for a graduation or a wedding or Memorial Day or the Fourth of July, have a story feast? What better way to share your legacy than this!

If you’d like to have a story feast this summer, see the suggested instructions below. If you’d like to get free story prompts and a guide you can share with others, consider subscribing to my monthly newsletter where I share a roundup of resources on aging, caregiving, legacy, and end-of-life.

Food for the Feast

Invite everyone to bring something. You can choose a theme or just go with pot luck. Do an entire meal or make it simpler with appetizers or desserts. Some of my favorite recipes have come from story feasts, and the cool thing is you often get to hear a story related to the food.

Story Topics

There are as many story topics as there are stories, but here are a few to get you started:

• best/worst school story

• a story of rescue

• traditions of holidays: Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day, etc.

• first job story or work story

• stories of waiting

• vacation stories

Our Bible study group used to choose a theme related to our Bible study and take a break from our regular study to have a story feast. 

Help People Write Their Stories

While people do not have to write out their stories, doing so can help them stay on track, and it also allows the story to be saved as a legacy story. Encourage people that no one is checking their grammar, to write without thinking about those things.

Here is one way to approach writing a story to share:

  1. Set aside 15 minutes. Brainstorm by writing down topics/titles that come to mind.

  2. Set aside 30 minutes. Choose a topic, and answer a few questions about it. Here are some questions to consider:

    1. Describe the senses — what you heard, tasted, felt, saw, smelled…etc.

    2. Who were the people involved?

    3. What happened? Was there a conflict? Was there a resolution?

    4. What did you or do you see about God in the story?

    5. Is there any redemption or revelation in the story?

  3. Set aside 30 minutes again. Using the questions above, write out the story. Try to keep it rather short — around two pages. Sharing time is usually limited to around 10 minutes at the feast.

Plan the Feast

Although sometimes stories just come out as we linger around the table or living room together, often the time needs to be a little more structured.

  1. Allot a certain amount of time for eating, then gather to share stories.

  2. Give an allotted time — usually around 10-15 minutes works well. (Tell your guests ahead of time, so they will know they won’t have time to share every detail).

  3. Begin with a brief gospel-centered devotional or by reading a Scripture related to the topic. 

  4. Remind everyone that they aren’t “required” to tell a story (tell them this when you invite them, too — more people will come:-)! Then remind them it will be fairly dull if no one does. Usually one brave soul begins, and often others decide to tell their story or remember one to tell if they haven’t before.

  5. Share stories.

  6. Provide a little time for feedback or observations. Remind people that they don’t need to try to fix anyone’s problem, just listen carefully, especially for hope and redemption.

After the Feast

After the feast, within a day or so, return to the story and jot down a few new things you noticed after telling your story.

 

A Prayer about Pondering the Depth of God’s Love

A Prayer about Pondering the Depth of God’s Love

Your love, God, is my song, and I will sing it!

I’m forever telling everyone how faithful you are.

I’ll never quit telling the story of your love. Psalm 89:1

Loving Father,

Slow us down in the busy scrolling and scrambling of the day 

to consider, to ponder, to meditate on, the wonders of your love.

Your love stretches far beyond the limits of the ocean, 

the very ocean you crafted in love (Ephesians 3:18-19).

Your love lasts forever and doesn’t waver daily 

based on our performance (Romans 5:8).

Your love secures us in our salvation 

and is eternally secure for those who trust in you (Romans 8:35-39).

Your love searches us out in our wandering 

and brings us home to your embrace (Luke 15:11-32). 

Your love befriends us in our loneliness 

and comforts us in our sorrow (John 15:15).

Most of all, your love changes us, 

transforming us from self-loving sinners 

who only like to talk about ourselves 

to God-loving saints 

who “never quit telling the story of your love” (Psalm 89:1). 

Loving Father, may we begin today 

swimming in the depths of your love, 

knowing we will never find the bottom.

In Jesus’ loving name. Amen.

Read Psalm 89. 



Sunday Morning Coming Down, or Why Church Matters

Sunday Morning Coming Down, or Why Church Matters

How I learned that church matters…

Does church matter? It’s not uncommon these days to hear people say, “I believe in God, and I read my Bible and pray, but I don’t need to go to church.” Are they right? If we are regularly reading the Bible, if we are regularly praying, do we really need to go to church?

The short answer, I believe with all my heart and mind, is “yes.” In church, in fellowship with other believers, we hear the Word preached, and it changes us (Romans 10:17). With the body of Christ, we take part in the body of Christ, and we grow up to look like him (1 Cor. 10:16). Other believers encourage us, cheering us on, weeping with us, rejoicing with us, praying with us, serving with us, sharing the good news with us (Hebrews 10:24-25).

I could go on like this, making an argument for the necessity of church. But today I want to share a story, of how church first communicated God’s grace to me, and why, despite struggling with several broken church stories over the years, I consider it a non-negotiable spiritual grace.

Before there was church: “Silent Sundays”

I woke up Sunday morning with no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt…the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad, so I had one more for dessert…

Maybe not the best lyrics for a seven-year-old-girl to have stuck in her head, but Kris Kristofferson’s song, as performed by Johnny Cash, is the song line of redemption that to this day, reminds me of why I love church.

I’m pretty sure the song played every Sunday morning we visited my Dad’s little rented ramshackle farmhouse, where he moved after my parents divorced. The album cover, with Johnny’s head looming large, sat propped on the three-foot-high wooden box speaker.

In that season of our lives, Sundays echoed with the “disappearing dreams of yesterday.” Sundays were the day of exchange, when my brother and I were returned from our weekend visit. Sundays were weighty, too quiet, sad.

Weighty and sad, there was indeed something in a Sunday to make you feel alone. #church #story Click To Tweet

Because of blue laws, Sundays were sleepy. Nothing except church opened on Sundays until 1. We didn’t go to church, at least not in the early years of divorce. At my mom’s, the sound of solitude echoed through our little apartment as the morning hours crept by. At 12:45, the three of us would pile into her little beige Toyota Corolla and venture out to Treasure Island, the 60’s predecessor to Target, with its wavy roof and vast concrete jungles that were beginning to pave paradise.

Don’t get me wrong. Not all Sundays were so sadly silent. There were picnics at the park and plays at the community theater, fall mornings throwing the football and spring days playing tennis. There was goodness and sweet and light. But it seemed that darkness hovered, threatening to overcome it.

Johnny Cash crooned out the longing I couldn’t quite place:

Somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing, and a Daddy with a laughing little girl he was swinging….

Church and “laughing little girls”

It was at church that I first caught glimpses of the laughing little girl inside me. At my grandmother’s house, where my brother and I stayed for a month in the summertime, Sunday meant church. More than once, I was sent back upstairs to put on my slip (a thin undergarment that we wore under sheer materials like dotted swiss!!). We went first to Sawnnnn-da School, as my grandmother assured everyone I used to call it. We sat at small tables under the kind expression of blue-eyed Jesus (Yikes! I didn’t say church was perfect!) and colored lost sheep. After church, as a special treat, we went to the church library and checked out clean-smelling hardback books.

When my brother turned sixteen and had the freedom to drive, he decided we should start going to church. In fact, he decided that we ought to be confirmed. (I never thought to argue). We had been baptized in a small chapel as infants, and over the years, we had occasionally visited the colossal cathedral when our mom or dad, whoever had us, was attending. Now, as teenagers, off we went, Sunday mornings for church and Sunday school and back on Sunday afternoons for confirmation classes. Sundays now offered purpose and structure and something to study, which this little teacher-girl always loved.

Now there was something in a Sunday that made the body not feel so alone. #church #story Click To Tweet

Even after I was a confirmed member of the Church, it took me another year to understand the meaning of church, the essence of Christianity (Again, I didn’t say church was perfect!). When I was 15, at a weekend Christian retreat, I sat on a rock under a starry sky and spoke to God the only three words I fully understood at the moment: “I need you.”

Now there was something in a Sunday that made the body not feel so alone. There were daddies with laughing little girls and the luscious smell of someone frying chicken (well, that was on Wednesday nights at a later church). But that was still not what Kristofferson, what Cash were really missing.

The “something lost somewhere along the way” was The Story, the gospel, preached, lived, and taught. Church is a place where those who smoked their minds the night before—and those who didn’t—come to consume the message we crave, the message of forgiveness in Jesus Christ, the message of grace, the message of our one true hope.

Kristofferson’s words ring true:

And there’s nothing short a’ dying
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.

Yes, there is sorrow and loneliness and pain to be found in the church. But here, in the hospital for sinners that offers hospitality to strangers, the light overcomes the darkness. It is a place where the song line of redemption meets the sound of sleeping city sidewalks. It is the place where we sing and tell the only story that truly satisfies the loneliness and longings of Sunday morning coming down.

Photo by sergio souza on Unsplash

Sunday Morning Coming Down

by Kris Kristofferson

Well, I woke up Sunday morning
With no way to hold my head that didn’t hurt.
And the beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad,
So I had one more for dessert.
Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes
And found my cleanest dirty shirt.
Then I washed my face and combed my hair
And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day.

I’d smoked my mind the night before
With cigarettes and songs I’d been picking.
But I lit my first and watched a small kid
Playing with a can that he was kicking.
Then I walked across the street
And caught the Sunday smell of someone frying chicken.
And Lord, it took me back to something that I’d lost
Somewhere, somehow along the way.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I’m wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothing short a’ dying
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.

In the park I saw a daddy
With a laughing little girl that he was swinging.
And I stopped beside a Sunday school
And listened to the songs they were singing.
Then I headed down the street,
And somewhere far away a lonely bell was ringing,
And it echoed through the canyon
Like the disappearing dreams of yesterday.

On a Sunday morning sidewalk,
I’m wishing, Lord, that I was stoned.
‘Cause there’s something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone.
And there’s nothing short a’ dying
That’s half as lonesome as the sound
Of the sleeping city sidewalk
And Sunday morning coming down.

Exercise: Write your own church story:

  • Why not write or tell this story: What’s your story with church? Consider these questions to get started:
    Did you go as a child and stop going along the way?
  • Have you experienced redemption at church?
  • Do you have a broken church story?
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How (and Why) to Write Your Mother’s Story

How (and Why) to Write Your Mother’s Story

As we continue our focus on moms, this week we consider our own moms or mother figures in our lives. 

A story about writing a mother’s story

It had never occurred to me before, and I don’t know why it occurred to me now. We had been asked in a writer’s workshop I was attending to tell a story about bones, possibly broken bones. Well, I have a great broken bone story, so I was ready to dive right in. I would tell the story I’ve told many times before, about the day I shattered my elbow into twenty-five pieces when I was eleven. Our teacher set a timer for fifteen minutes and told us to write what happened.

That’s when it occurred to me, and I have to admit, I felt a little selfish that I’m almost fifty-seven years old, and it had never occurred to me before. I wondered, “What was that day like for my mom?” That’s when I decided to write the story from her perspective. Instead of telling my version of the story, I tried to picture what that day had been like for her. I began to write what I imagined might have happened. I wrote quickly for fifteen minutes and still had more to write when the timer ended.

How it changed me:

Rather than sharing what I wrote that day, I want to share what happened inside of me as I wrote what my mom might have gone through in that season:

Tears began to leak down my cheeks. I actually felt the terror she might have felt when she answered the phone and a strange voice on the other end of the line reported, “Your daughter has been in a bike accident!”

I wondered in writing:

  • What did it feel like for her when the policeman at the accident scene remarked, “Isn’t that her bone sticking out of her arm”?
  • What stress did she endure as a single working mom when her daughter was admitted to the hospital for three weeks?
  • What was it like to worry about the financial burden of two surgeries and countless hours of physical therapy placed on her and her ex-husband?

I felt something swelling inside of me—I’m pretty sure it was empathy for my mother.

The time has come but not passed (thankfully) for me to ask these questions and others about her stories. That day, I concluded my invented story with this observation:

When I was a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. The time has come to think like a grown-up daughter, to wonder about my mother’s story. The time has come to seek and to knock, to ask forgiveness and to forgive, to… Click To Tweet

If you’d like to try writing your mother’s story, I created a full story journal with guidelines, multiple prompts, and a few reflection questions for all of my wonderful Living Story subscribers. You can get that free resource by subscribing here.

If you prefer a briefer version of just this particular prompt, try the instructions below:

 

Get free printable prayer worksheet and cards

How to write a story from your mother’s point of view:

  1. Choose a significant event from your life that your mother was involved in in some way.
  2. Don’t worry about grammar or sentence structure or any “English teacher” type things. Just tell the story.
  3. Try to show what happened:
    • Describe the setting.
    • Write the dialogue: For example: What did the stranger say when he or she called my mom? How did my mom reply?
    • Consider your mother’s season and circumstance and how your life event might have affected her.
  4. Write down everything you can remember about it.
  5. Now, imagine what that event was like for her. See it through her eyes.
  6. At the end, write what you see now about your mother that you did not see before.
  7. Do you see any ways that your love, empathy, and/or forgiveness toward your mom grew through this exercise?
  8. If your mom is still alive, consider asking your mom about this event. Ask her to tell you the story from her point of view.

Questions to consider as you try to write from your mom’s perspective:

  • What would have been her struggles in that situation? What stresses might she have endured? What fears or sorrows might she have had?
  • What would she have said to her husband or her friend that she would not have said to you?

For a joyous event:

  • What would she have celebrated?
  • What would she have been most excited about (Remember, it might not be what you were most excited about!)

Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash

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Why We Need to Pray God’s Story

Why We Need to Pray God’s Story

Beginning to Pray God’s Story

Is this series on spiritual graces encouraging and refreshing you? I hope so. Today I want to offer some hope to energize your prayer life. Here is my story: On a cold January night 40 years ago, I sat on a hard rock, looked up at the starry sky and spoke a simple prayer, God, I need help! That was my feeble attempt to acknowledge my desperate need for a Savior. I had only an inkling of how deep my sin nature ran and how impossible it was to earn my own salvation, but God heard these three little words and moved powerfully through them.

Continuing to Pray God’s Story

For years after I called Christ Savior, I handwrote lengthy prayers in a journal and talked to Jesus all day long. “What’s the answer to number 3 on this Calculus test? Or, if you won’t give me the answer, could you just show me how to do it?” (You might say such a request either reflects my shallow faith or my deep understanding that Jesus is the Redeemer of all things, including Calculus!) My #prayer story: Desperation had become dullness. Passion had become passivity. What's your #story with #prayer? Click To Tweet More years went by.  One day I acknowledged that my prayers had become a rote presentation of a laundry list of prayer requests, mostly about someone’s distant relative. Desperation had become dullness. Passion had become passivity. I knew I was supposed to pray as a Christian, but I was struggling to find the energy and the words. I needed to learn to pray all over again. Then I discovered a very important key to prayer:

4 Ways Understanding God’s Story (The Bible) changes our prayer; prayer changes our understanding of God’s Story.

  1. God’s Story helps us remember there is a bigger story. If life is only about the here and now, our little story, if there’s nothing more beyond what we can touch and see, why would anyone pray? Such nearsightedness is perhaps what leads people to “send positive thoughts” rather than the go-big-or-go-home act of prayer.
  2. God’s Story shows us how to pray:What should we pray about? God’s big story shows us that we should pray many things, including these:
  • Thanking our Creator (Phil. 4:6).
  • Harmony in relationships, with God and with others (Eph. 4:2-3).
  • Confession of sin (1 John 1:9).
  • Grieving that things are not as God created them to be (Psalm 88).
  • Redemption of people and this entire cosmos (Romans 8:23).
  • Christ’s return and the wonderful end of the story which is really just the beginning of real life (Revelation 21:1-5).

3. God’s Story gives us a basis for praying. Pray for restoration of broken things. Not broadly. Right here, right now. Lord, restore my understanding of Calculus because you are a restorer of broken things.

4. God’s Story informs our prayers through specific stories.For example, “Lord, don’t let me be cynical like Sarah was when she believed you wouldn’t provide her the promised child!” (See Genesis 18:12). Or, alternatively, “Lord, let me be like Sarah, laughing hilariously at your surprising ways — bringing improbable babies after the story seemed long over.” (See Genesis 21:6).

Try this exercise to pray God’s story!

Take 5 minutes. Write down a situation in your life or the life of someone you know, perhaps something you’ve been praying for. For each of these questions, you will need to write short simple sentence or phrase answers. Connect it to the Big Story of Scripture. Here are some sample questions you can ask to do this:
  • Where do you see the image of God? Where is there shalom (wholeness, peace, harmony, beauty)?
  • What brokenness exists?
  • Is someone moving toward another god to make life work?
  • What redemption has taken place? What redemption are you praying for?
  • What prayer for future restoration might you pray?

A Prayer about Praying

Lord, God, it is pretty astonishing that you’ve not only allowed us, but welcomed us into your presence, to talk with you personally about the things that matter to you and the things that matter to us. We confess, too many times we are simply too busy running our own lives to stop and talk with you about them. We confess, we are often confused about how or what to pray. Help us, Lord, to enjoy this great privilege you have given us as our heavenly Father. In Jesus’ name and by your Spirit, we pray, Amen!

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