The Stories We Tell

Monday evening I attended a storytelling workshop, surround by a diverse group: a Russian professor, a homeschooled student, a lady with autism, numerous twenty-somethings (F5 tornado survivor, mother in prison, MLP addict, etc.) and our teacher:  Kevin Kling–“part funny guy…poet…playwright and wise man. Born with a disabled left arm, he lost the use of his right one after a motorcycle accident nearly killed him.”

Big Daddy Weave – Yours Will Be

Our introductions were giving the story behind our names, each person sharing, some shy, some bold, and some profound: “Every day I when I wake up I have to make a decision whether or not to be a whole person.” (lady with autism)

I hadn’t been in a setting like that for years and hungrily wicked up the experience, the stories, the encouragement and the socialness of it all.

Last night I worshiped with Big Daddy Weave at The Only Name Tour.  I was soaking up the richness and then we collectively sang, “When I wake up in the Land of Glory, And with the saints I will tell my story,There will be one Name that I proclaim.”  I smiled a secret smile–I relished the fact that God had bookended my week with diversity, names and stories.  I’m still reflecting.

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