Storytelling

This post is slightly unrelated to most of the others, but I thought this was an appropriate place to put it.

When I tell people why I love storytelling it ALWAYS involves my dad. Every night when I was young, after my mom had allready tucked me in I would say, "Daddy...tell me a story about when you were a little boy."

And he would (of course). It seemed that there were always new stories. Some adventures, some funny, some painful, some scary but all about his life. All great.

He is a storyteller, he can't help it. He is how I fell in love with stories. For me they were stories of a different world. A world with hand made tortillas, and La Llorona (on of the many Mexican boogie men characters), there was a tree with a rope swing that was just a little to close to the barbed wire fence. Where my dad wore tailored polyester pants. This world was magic as the world of any story is. He opened up my passion for cultures and people and of course, their stories.

Yesterday morning I sat down to read my bible and I thought, "daddy, tell me a story." It struck me, I didn't do it on purpose or to be funny. It came so naturally to look up and ask this. Here He tells me stories from years past. Some scary, some stern, some funny, always teaching. Stories teach, Jesus knew that, he often taught in parables.

Like my Daddy told me stories. God, my other daddy, tells me stories.

Tell your stories, the good and the bad. Who knows who they will inspire, or teach, or just make laugh. It is all valuable. All good.

Listen to the stories God wants to tell you, in his word and in the words and lives of others. All good.

Enjoy them.