Why Craft A Better Story?
It was ten past eight when she stepped on the bus.
I remember because I had only moments before sighed openly at how slowly the trip from the beach back into the city was progressing, and had just looked at my watch to see how much of the evening had already passed me by on this god-forsaken highway bus. I had stayed to watch the sun as it set a fire across California’s ocean before smoldering out on the horizon, but now I was exhausted from the day’s activities and in the middle of a pizza fantasy which was still a good 45 minutes away from becoming reality. Until she sat down at the end of the row and put her little green purse on her lap, I was salivating at the thought of my fourth bite of brick-oven pepperoni goodness.
“Gum?” she asked, turning to me.
“Uhh...no. Thank you.” It took me a moment to respond.
“Are you sure? You look like you could use a gum.” she queried, this time pulling a stick from her bag.
“No ma’am. I appreciate it, i’m just not in the mood right now.” I offered back.
Even though she shrugged as she popped a piece in her mouth, I could tell she was satisfied by my answer. I took a moment as she rummaged through her back for me to gauge her for the first time. She was small, maybe half my size. I think if she had been wearing a generous set of heels she might have made it to 4’4”, but instead her small feet sported blue Nike sneakers. Her mostly silver hair was punctuated by strands of midnight black which were neatly done up behind her head, never once making their way down to the full body salmon-colored wool coat keeping her warm. While her pants and blouse were a forgettable solid black, her smile won’t ever lose a place in my memory. It was the kind of smile you rarely see—one that lingers—existing because it can, a lighthouse to weary travelers like me.
She looked truly happy.
“So why are you tired, young man?” she said looking again my way.
“Well...I...ummm...I just got done sitting down by the beach. I guess it has been a rather long day.” I managed, trying to explain in my head the actual reasons for the somber looking-off-into-the-distance gaze I must have been wearing.
“Oh, that sounds lovely! The waves are so beautiful, aren’t they? I just finished my shift down at the restaurant. You wouldn’t *believe* how busy it was tonight!” she said.
“I can imagine…” I said, my thoughts half wanting to return to the gourmet meat and cheese I was waiting to consume, “...do you like it where you work?”
“No, not at all.” she replied.
This is where I started to pay attention.
She dabbed a small amount of perfume on her neck, and it was then my desensitized nose could faintly make out the scent of shellfish and noodles she had brought onboard our little caravan.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do you mind if I ask...what makes it so bad?” I probed.
“I don’t mind. It’s just not what I want I love. I am grateful to have this job...very grateful. My cousin...his friend runs the shop and work is so hard to find these days, you know, but he can be very demanding. Always ‘Go go go!’ and ‘Where is the food!?’ Never time enough. Never good enough.” she offered back, getting a little more animated as she snapped her fingers.
“It sounds hard there. Have you thought about looking for something else?” I said.
“Oh my, look at you. Such a sweet thing. No, I’m working for only a few more months. I took this job when my daughter told me she was going to have her little one. My husband and I are retired a long time now and don’t have much, but I wanted to and give her and [some Chinese name I can’t pronounce] a gift so baby [some other Chinese name I can’t pronounce] can go to university some day. I don’t want her to end up washing dishes at night when she’s my age. I want her to find a handsome young businessman or doctor instead.” she said, pausing for a moment to think and chuckle aloud.
“I want her to live better than I got to.”
I took a moment to laugh a bit with her. “That’s lovely. I’m so glad you get to give that to them!”
“Would you like to see a picture?!” her wrinkled hands already pulling out an album from the depths of her purse.
I laughed again. “Yes. Yes, I would.”
---
Since I was young I’ve been captivated by the idea of living well—this idea that we tell a story with our lives, and there are better and worse ways to tell our story. I think it’s a critical piece of the human experience which is more often than not lost in modern culture. That, for most of us, moving through adulthood has cost us a loss of focus on living out the best story we possibly can.
Looking to tell a better story and live a better life is the driving force behind much of what we do - it’s the fuel for so many of our choices. I’ve become convinced the longer I’m alive that not only are there better and worse ways to live, but by taking time to study ideas about different themes of our story, asking genuine questions, taking what we find to heart and applying it in practical ways we can tell a breathtaking, world-changing story with the tapestry of our lives.
All of this begs a simple question though, doesn’t it?.
Why?
Why should we try to live a “better” life? Why should we try to tell a more compelling story with the time we have here together?
Good questions. A few thoughts for you.
Our time is short. Shorter than we tend to think. We only have so many days to live. Only so much time to make our dreams come to life. Only so much time to build friendships and fall in love and risk to do the incredible things our hearts desire. So we should be intentional about how we live, about crafting a better story, because it’s the best possible use of the time we have. Anything else is beneath the value of the delicate life we’ve been given.
But also because this is one of the best methods for living a happier, more fulfilling existence while we are here. When we look at all the greatest stories ever told, fact or fiction, we find the protagonist making choices which make the story greater than it would have been otherwise. It isn’t the setting or the props or circumstances which are the crux of the story; it’s the choices.
Frodo takes the ring to Mordor.
M.L.K. delivers a speech.
Noah chases the girl.
Armstrong steps onto the moon.
Romeo sings a sonnet.
And you...what choices will your story be remembered for?
On top of all this, there is an enthralling potential within each moment to make the world around us, and the lives of the people we are connected with, more enriched than they were before. Not only do our choices shape our stories, but they shape the stories of those we encounter as we move in and out of their tales and the vast narrative of history.
Now, before we get started let’s settle something right off the bat. I don’t have this figured out. I don’t have it all together. But my limited experience has led me to see that exploring how we can intentionally craft a better story, in the best ways we can, is a powerful and worthy use of our time and energy.
Take this as an invitation, Storytellers. Come along with me on this journey and see what happens when we try to tell the most worthwhile stories with our lives that we possibly can. I think we’ll be surprised by what we find along the way.