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April 28, 2010

So I finished it.  I finished the seven days of remembering, and I finished A Million Miles In A Thousand Years.

I don’t know if the remembering mattered.  Maybe it’s hard to tell if it matters when you’re close to it and it just seems so ordinary…so daily.

Some people are just naturally good at remembering things and telling a good story.  My friend Sheri can tell a story like nobody’s biz.  In nothing flat she’ll have me rolling with laughter, helpless tears of hilarity rolling down my face.  But maybe one of the reasons she tells such a good story is that when you listen to her stories, you realize that she’s living a good story. Not always a pleasant one, but one with struggles and triumphs and villains and heroes, one that always makes you wonder what is going to happen next…and you remain perpetually convinced that something will indeed happen.

I’m finding that since thinking about my life as a story, it’s gotten both easier and harder to move forward.  When I have a choice, I sometimes just stop and ask myself which would make a better story?  Which choice would tell a story that I want to be true of me?  But sometimes I don’t have choices that move me.  Sometimes I find life to be tedious and directionless, and I struggle to find myself thrilled with the story of doing my eighth load of laundry this week, or the story of loading and unloading the dishwasher, or the story of figuring out what I’m going to do with this package of fresh chicken that will go bad if I don’t use it today.  The restlessness doesn’t drive me; it paralyzes me.  I become like a deer in the headlights, except there are no headlights.  I’m just frozen.  And it’s hard to believe there is anything that matters about a story where the main character is frozen with no ambition, no energy, no desire strong enough to move her into a place of thawed action.

I think I’m still searching for the story I want to tell.  Or maybe it’s more correct to say I’m searching for the story I think I’m capable of telling.  I find myself doing that sometimes, limiting myself to what I think I can do.  But I don’t really want a story I can do.  I want  a God-sized life, not a Lisa-sized life.  I want to think God-sized thoughts and dream God-sized dreams and do God-sized tasks and have a God-sized heart.  He’s given me gifts and talents that ought to add up to something God-sized, but much of the time I have no idea what to do with them.  They are an amoeba-shaped peg in a square-hole world.

I suspect I’ll be considering story for quite some time.

4 Comments leave one →
  1. May 4, 2010 4:47 pm

    I, too, want a God-sized life. :)

  2. May 5, 2010 11:11 am

    “AN AMOEBA-SHAPED PEG IN A SQUARE-HOLE WORLD.” Love that so much! Thanks for sharing this. xoxo

  3. Jessica permalink
    May 5, 2010 3:38 pm

    love it, thanks!

  4. Lauren permalink
    May 6, 2010 4:57 am

    I made my way to your post by way of Lori’s latest. You are an amazing storyteller and I relate to so much of what you said. Thank you for sharing!

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