stories

I'm a sucker for stories. There's something about discovering things about other people, fictional and real, and their experiences that captivates me. Not like that's particular only to me, but I'm just saying that I'm a real sucker for them. When I was younger I would read 3-4 books at a time, and I would rotate each book after a certain number of chapters. I read in the dark, crossing the streets in New York, in the car, and in the bathroom. Now as a 21-year-old "adult" I've strayed from reading that many simultaneously, but instead get so wrapped up in the plot that I stay up til 5am reading the latest Harry Potter installment. Thank God there are no more due out because I'd lose too much precious time.

I'm an even bigger sucker for testimonies. It amazes me how personal it allows a person to become in front of an audience of some sort. And it's not for the glorification of the individual giving the testimony-- if anything it shows that bad parts of that person. Rather it distinguishes the way in which the almighty God made himself somewhat tangible and reachable to the guy, the girl, you, me. It blows me away; sometimes more powerfully than others, but I'm blown away regardless. To be honest, the fact that God is not for my own escapes me occasionally and it's pleasantly shocking when I'm reminded that there are others out there who have been offered and accepted the same love and grace as me. But in such different manners. There's that lil kid song that goes "my God is so big, so strong and so mighty, there's nothing my God cannot do" (clap clap). And that rings true whenever I hear others' stories. There are the simple "I grew up in church and I just love Jesus" stories, then there are the stories involving gangs and drug use and near-death experiences. There are the miraculous encounters and the intellectual epiphanies that introduced people to the Big Man. And there are the testimonies of after the initial introduction, of times of trial and tribulation, of joy, of abundant blessings and challenges. There are also those crazy missions encounters, where government officials gave people ultimatums but things crazily worked out in their favor.

And there are the testimonies of every day occurrences. Of seeing a baby smile at you without the reason being gas. Of the other car waving you the favor of merging in front of them. Those wouldn't really be referred to as testimonies, but rather they're more generally stories. Little events. But the little events are the things that make up stories and testimonies, and they're essentially the same thing, aren't they. I love stories. I admired, and still admire, the stories of others and the events of their lives that seemed so awesome and exciting. I'd silently envy their amazing lives and cool experiences, and my stories weren't much compared to theirs. My stories didn't seem to compare. Then I embarked on journeys and experiences of my own that I guess others may have envied. But despite my own exciting stories, others' always trumped mine.

It's funny that this summer is the first one in a long time that was supposed to be uneventful. Without any plans, I didn't expect it to turn out so full. Denmark and the rest of Europe's made me see the good in those little things, the boring things like sitting and talking to a Danish man about prisons over tea. I keep referring to how this summer is a quiet and relaxing one, but it's been more than that. There are a lot of stories to it, and I keep thinking of my past ones. And it's so ... humbling. And silencing. And wonderful.

Now if only I could find a way to express and tell them without being boring or sounding too pompous that'd be great.