Twice today I told stories. Simple retelling of interactions, of people on my path. If someone asks me mundane questions like “How did that go?”, or “How was your meeting?” they are met with a response in the form of a story. All of my life I’ve been an observer of people. I am often found gazing over at someone, fixated on their mannerism, their expression, their posture…all the while wishing we could sit and talk…wishing I could ask, “What’s your story?”
Today, I told two people the same story of helping a desperate mother do everything in her power to reunite with her children. I told of her fears, serious fears, as I drove her to a court appearance. I told of how I was prepared to speak up for her if they refused to acknowledge her persistence. I was so,so sad for her and the burden of her mistakes, the heaviness of her consequences. I told of how when I arrived at our shelter to pick her up, she was dressed beautifully, and kneeling, head bent in reverent prayer.
Bend down, O’ Lord, and hear my prayer; answer me, for I need your help. Psalm 86:1
I told of her praying again in the courthouse.
Both times shared, I watched their faces, intent on my words, eyes glossed with tears. Twice today I was gifted with faithful listeners, people compelled to know the story. People who connected. Listening is rare, a commitment of time and of soul. A story shared with a listener is a story that leaves a lesson. A listener embraces and converts the soul of words. An encounter with a listener is a treasure.