Tell them stories

I had a grandfather who was suffering with cancer when he made a trip from Texas to Utah. I noticed on this visit that something was different about him. Not only his physical appearance,  but he felt different as well. More peaceful, more calm, he felt good to be around. What I remember most about this visit was how his stories had changed. He had always been a story teller and I loved hearing his stories. He was lively and fun and I loved listening. This time his stories were every bit as interesting but they seemed to have more depth and he seemed to want to tell them. I say he was always a story teller but this time it was different. Something caught my attention and I suddenly wanted to know everything about his past, and about my family heritage. Had I known it was the last time I was going to see him I would have asked more questions and dug deeper into who he was and what he enjoyed. I will never forget that moment sitting at that table surrounded by my family, holding my infant son as he told us stories from the past. In that moment I felt more connected to my family than I ever had before. Something unified us.

My father got his father's love for story telling. When we were younger it was my favorite thing to sit around my dad as he would make up a story right there on the spot and tell it to us in all different voices or accents. If we were lucky he would use his preacher voice which always got us laughing. Story tellers are fun people but I have found something even more important about story telling. In that moment with my grandfather I noticed that I wanted to know a little bit about where I came from and who I am. Some of my favorite stories my dad told and the only ones I remember are the ones of his childhood. 

My parents have always been kind of private people. They didn't ever argue in front of us and they never complained of any financial struggles. Life was good as a kid but they also never told us about their struggles, about their triumphs and where they came from. I loved the moments they would tell us about how they met or some of their dating stories. I especially loved when they told us about the awkwardness as they got to know each other's families (the in laws). Like the time my mom didn't know the lid on the ranch bottle was just sitting on top and not screwed down. She was at a dinner at my dad's parents house and  shook the ranch bottle and got ranch everywhere! It showed me that it's okay to laugh at our mistakes. I also loved the stories my dad told about him getting in fights as a boy  or teen. It meant to me that we stand up for ourselves.

The stories I wish I knew more of maybe weren't meant for my childhood and maybe aren't gather around the table kind of stories but I long to know what it was really like growing up for them. What they struggled with, how they felt misunderstood, how they reacted to rejection or failure, the time they felt they had really achieved something meaningful, the moment or moments they decided to live for themselves and not the rest of the world. That's what I am longing for now but as I long for this it reminds me how important those stories were for me when growing up.

I needed to hear how my parents met to help me know of their love for each other, I needed to hear how my dad fought as a teen cause it helped me understand the anger inside myself, I needed to hear how my mother goofed up in front of new people and they still loved her, I needed to hear about my grandparents cause I never got the chance to know any of them the way I wished that I had. I knew my grandparents from my parents point of view. It was important that I knew where I came from.

So I'm reminded to tell my children stories. I am reminded that some of them should be funny, some should be tender, and some should be serious. I am reminded that my children's relationships with their uncles, aunts, cousins and grandparents will help them understand themselves better. I am reminded that inside of family my children will find someone who can understand or relate to them and it's important to keep that line of communication open. So I tell my children stories. I tell them about how me and their father met, about when they were born and when they were little. I love and enjoy that my husband is a story teller and has such a great memory. I sit back and listen to him tell the kids stories that I may be hearing for the first time or for the dozenth time but I enjoy it nonetheless because as his story unravels I can see our family being tightly woven together. 

He tells the kids stories of when he put his little sister in the dryer and he can hardly breathe as he talks about how she went "thump, thump" as she tumbled inside. When the laughter is over he tells them it's not a safe thing. He tells about the time his sister and him were fighting and he suddenly got a sharp pain in his back and it was his little brother biting them to get them to stop fighting.  He tells stories of his father that passed and I do my best to piece together what type of man he was. As he and his family tell stories I get an insight into who they are, what it means to be an Eddy and I get to see how my dear husband grew up and why he thinks the way he thinks.

So tell your children stories. Tell them about moments, tell them about successes and failures, moments of triumph and defeat. Tell them about quirky and funny family members. How you met their father (or mother) and how they came into this world and you were so excited and nervous. It's okay for them to know that you were nervous. It helps them know that you knew and know parenting is a big and important job and they are important. Because they are important and so is telling stories... :)