It's My Story

I remember when I was just a little kid, maybe three or four, I used a red crayon to "write" in the margins of one of my Golden Books. I vividly remember sitting at my table in my bedroom and the afternoon light filtering in through the curtained window above the table, casting dappled light across the pages. I "wrote" a series of loops and arcs across the top and bottom margin of every page. When my mother saw what I had done, she got angry at me for scribbling in my book and demanded an explanation. I remember very clearly telling her "It's my story." And while memory sometimes distorts reality, I know for a fact that it crushed me when she didn't ask to read it. I had a story to tell and I was willing to write it in the margins of someone else's story just to give it existence.

I just finished reading a great book. In this book, the author writes about the idea of life as a narrative. He says our lives are richer when we tell stories with them. He also writes about the need for an inciting incident, an event that sets the protagonist in motion to create change in his life. Something has to happen to make the character change, because otherwise, he wouldn't. I like this idea. I like the idea that we can force change in our lives instead of just waiting for something to happen to us. In this way, change is good. It doesn't mean we won't be afraid, and that is okay.  It just means we have a reason to change, to create a new story for ourselves when the old when isn't working so well anymore.

Two Thousand and Nine was a pretty good year as far as change goes. I created several inciting incidents in my life and consequently, began the telling of some pretty good stories. I also invited some people into these stories so we could tell better stories together. And according to Donald Miller, that's what good storytellers do: they invite people into their story. I have to tell you, it made for a good time.

And here I sit, a few days in to 2010. While I can't even begin to wrap my head around that number or decide definitively how I am going to say it, I find myself hopeful. And a little bit restless and uncomfortable--the same feeling I get at the beginning of a good book before I settle into the telling of the story. I'm thinking I will invite some more people into my story this year. Some of them will be new characters in my life, bringing with them the dazzling dialogue of new beginnings. But some of them will be characters who haven't been part of my story for a long time. Their presence will bring some difficult backstory, some heavy subtext, and perhaps faltering, awkward dialogue--all worth wading through because it makes our story richer. And infinitely more complicated. But any story worth telling is going to have some hard parts.

If given the chance, I will write in the margins of some other well written stories this year. When invited in, I will use a red crayon and write great circling loops and high reaching arcs.  We will tell some great stories together and the last page will say "To be continued..."