The Power of Story

"How impressionable and vulnerable we are in the face of a story." Chimamanda Adichi

I talk a lot and think a lot about the power of stories. Someone once said that human beings are featherless storytelling creatures. When you think about it, we tell stories all day, every day. I just told JB the story of the really good taco I had at the new place next door to the Posse. And I've recently been told the story of a friend's birthday celebration and that another friend has recently moved into a retirement community. Just chit chat. But stories nonetheless.

I wonder if we comprehend the power that stories have over our lives. Probably not. But this video by Nigerian author Chimamanda Adichi offers a very articulate insight into the necessity of discernment and openness in hearing and integrating stories. Enjoy.

http://www.ted.com/talks/chimamanda_adichie_the_danger_of_a_single_story.html

And now, just for the fun of it, a story I love. It is true, or at least this is the way I remember it. (Knowing me, it is likely embellished. Stories tend to get decorated when they live in my mind for a while.) I don't know how to find the people it happened to, so I'm changing their names.

A number of years ago I led a moms' group at a big downtown parish. On Friday mornings a bunch of stay at home moms brought their children, who played in the nursery, and we had a couple of hours for conversation and Bible study. There was a tremendous amount of compassion, support, and wisdom in the group. They were a great blessing to me as well as to each other.

One day Megan came with the story of how she got her son Preston to give up his pacifiers. Mission accomplished, and if you've ever had a kid who loved pacifiers, you know this is no small accomplishment.

Now Preston was one of those kids who grew increasingly dependent upon and in love with his pacifiers. As his hands got bigger he became able to hold more and more spares in addition to the one that never left his mouth except to eat. Preston was turning four. It was time.

Megan had a brilliant idea. She told Preston in a matter of fact way that when children turn four they donate their pacifiers to babies who need them. She gave him a couple of days to reflect on where he would like to donate them. She suggested the hospital where babies are born, a day care center, the church nursery.

A day or two later Preston piped up that he wanted to donate his pacifiers to Lowe's. Lowe's? Yes. Lowe's. Because there are always little children crying at Lowe's and if the managers could give them pacifiers, maybe they wouldn't cry. Ingenious logic.

So Megan calls the manager at Lowe's and says she has surely the strangest request he has ever heard. He tells her to bring Preston and the pacifiers to the service desk at 2:00 on Tuesday (ok, I don't know for sure, but why not?) and ask for Joe (again...why not?)

When they get to Lowe's the person at the desk escorts them to the break room, where not only are Joe and a half dozen employees waiting, but there is a banner that reads, "Thank you, Preston," and there is a podium for the ceremony, and applause when the pacifiers are donated, and refreshments, and Joe gives Preston his own little tool belt complete with child-size tools as a gesture of the gratitude and appreciation of Lowe's.

Preston never asks for another pacifier. Now if the story ended there, it would still be great. But it doesn't.

Fast forward a year. Megan has to return something to the service desk at Lowe's, and Preston is with her. He looks at the employee, whom neither of them had ever seen before, and says, "What did you do with my pacifiers?"

The employee doesn't miss a beat: "Are you Preston?" She looks at him with awe.

Preston has become a mythological character in the ethos of this Lowe's store. He is the icon of commitment, and ever since that Tuesday afternoon, the zip loc bag of pacifiers has been the award for the most committed employee of the month.

I'll let you make this into your own sermon. I'll let you fit this into your own life. I'll let you invite this story to weave itself into your own story.