The Rest of Your Story 16: What are your meaningful memories?
To start from part one, click here.
When you think of writing MY LIFE STORY it seems big and scary. Yes? Let's simplify it.
Stories are just a series of experiences. And memories are just stored experiences. And experiences are really all about our senses.
Research has shown the strongest memories involve all five senses. In other words, God has physically wired us so that our senses are connected to our minds and emotions.
So don't start your story with, "I was born...." Rather, close your eyes and think of a meaningful experience. While you'll have hard ones, let's start with the happy.
Okay, got one in mind?
Now go through your five senses and write down one line for each. Let's try it together. One of the first things that comes to mind for me is sitting in the back of my grandparents' Christian bookstore as a child.
Sight - I see stacks of books I've gathered, my Grandma turning to smile at me.
Sound - I hear Christian music playing and the quiet chatter of customers.
Touch - I feel smooth pages and the softness of an old leather chair.
Taste - I taste a slightly stale doughnut, leftover from that morning.
Smell - I smell the loveliest mixture ever...paper, coffee, and Nana's lotion.
(Okay, I'm in bittersweet tears! Whew!)
Now ask yourself one question: Why is this experience important to my story? My answer would be, "Because I fell in love with Jesus and books in that back room and both have shaped who I am today."
Now you've got something really valuable. Compare that to what you might write without your senses: My grandparents owned a Christian bookstore and I spent hours in the back reading.
Flat. Empty. Just the facts, ma'am.
You don't need to record every moment you've lived. Just find the pulse. Every meaningful memory is a heartbeat in your story. Repeat this as many times as you'd like. Keep using single sentences or make paragraphs. Create a collection of individual memories or join them together as a book. Do whatever brings you the most joy.
And as for the rest of your story...
It works the same way. But instead of picturing the past, you're imagining the future. As Proverbs says, "As a (wo)man thinks in her heart, so is she." Don't be afraid to do a little dreaming with God. Then you can figure out S.T.E.P.s with Him to go in that direction.
With every heartbeat, your story is already being written.
All you've got to do is put it into words.
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TODAY'S QUESTION: What's a meaningful memory in your story?
Every comment during the 21-day challenge = an entry for $50 to DaySpring.com, including the (in)courage shop!
Are you a blogger? Every Friday we'll have a "Rest of Your Story" round-up! Just answer any of the questions for the week as a post on your blog, include a link to this series, then add your blog to the list on Friday. We'll get to visit you and you'll get another entry in the giveaway! Did you see last week's?
Holley Gerth
Reader Comments (138)
Sight: Dining table set up for breakfast complete with homemade menu, folded napkins and rose-coloured/gold plated wine glasses filled with cordial :)
Sound: Family slowing getting out of bed after me waking them up early!
Touch: Crisp tablecloth, cold cutlery and paper napkins...
Taste: lukewarm bacon and eggs
Smell: bacon and eggs (once even burnt plastic when I attempted cooking bacon in the microwave - sorry mum :) )
Why important to my story?Looking back I can see that even as a child God placed in me a desire to serve others through hospitality - even now I still get joy out of cooking for my family.
Sight: Grandma in her cozy kitchen or rocking chair
Sound: tea cups clinking, warm affirmations from her to me.
Touch: baking ingredients, Grandma playing with my hair, reading one of her countless books or magazines.
Smell: fresh baked cookies, fudge, divinity, etc. with hot coffee and tea. I can also still smell her Crabtree & Evelyn Magnolia lotion!
Taste: Fresh baked goodies (and some raw batter, too)! :) Hot tea for me.
Why is this important to me? Because it explains why I have a wicked sweet tooth!! LOL. OK, on a more serious note, because my Grandma Rea beautifully modeled unconditional love, encouragement, hospitality and service. She also handed down to me a love of baking and books!
Sight: the lodge, big open room, stone fireplace at one end, wood floor, walls decorated with signs and posters we had made over the weekend, our youth group seated in a circle -- some sitting cross-legged on the floor, others (with guitars) on chairs, our adult advisors joining right in with us.
Sound: the sound of one of many 1970's Christian folk songs we used to sing ..."We're all gathered hereBecause we all believeIf there's a doubter in the crowdWe ask you not to leaveGive a listen to His storyHear the message that we bringFeel the faith swell up inside youLift your voice with us and sing...Accept Him with your whole heartAnd use you own two handsWith one reach out to JesusAnd with the other, bring a friend..."
Touch: the feel of friends' hands as we joined them and prayed together.
Smell: the combined smell of wet winter gloves, hats, scarves -- and decoupage glue from our art projects the day before -- and breakfast being prepared by our hosts. :-)
Taste: the taste of homemade bread and juice from Holy Communion
Why is this experience important to my story? My faith was so young then but it was growing. I was learning though how important it is to get away and just think about Jesus and your relationship with Him. I got energized again at those times. I also found out that not all Christian music had to be a couple hundred years old and played on an organ. I still love the old hymns but contemporary Christian music speaks to me so much more.
What a special memory to recall. Thank you again, Holley, for this project.
Blessings!
Sight: Hundreds of leather wearing, bike riding, tatooed Jesus "freaks" in an auditorium crying out and kneeling in prayer to God.
Sound: Greetings from new and old friends, worship music, awesome messages from the Lord, sobs of joy, rolls of laughter, voices raised in praise.
Touch: The warm hugs and handshakes of the many friends there. The touch of Jesus as many "first timers" went forward to give their hearts to Him.
Taste: The wonderful food provided by the camp where we stayed.
Smell: the campfires of all those people camping! The smell of nature on a warm August night.
Why was this important to me? Until I married my second husband,(loosing my first to cancer), I had never really expierenced anything like this. I had always sort of looked at "BIKERS" in a different light, a sort of dark and dim one.THEN...I BECAME ONE! That first rally showed me it doesn't matter WHO you are...or WHAT you look like, God STILL LOVES YOU!
Nana's house and pretending to go to communion in her back bedroom behind the curtain...Sight: the bright light coming in the windowSound: the rustling of the curtainTouch: the feel of the smooth cool fabric of the curtain against my skinSmell: musty and dustyTaste: the imagined taste of communion breadThis is so important to me because Nana was my role model of a woman of faith. She took me to Mass every morning. I wanted to be just like her.
I see my sister, sitting next to me on the couch, huddled into herself. She is sobbing...deep wracking sobs. I feel her next to me. She has lost a lot of weight over the past year. I can feel the bones in her back as I rub her shoulders and neck, trying to comfort her and trying to release the tension in her neck. I remember the smell of the candles burning in the room.
"In London we had looked out onto the parade ground, and black metal railings of Wellington Barracks, with the ubiquitous London Plane Trees and the ornamental greenery of St James’ Park to soften the view. Scarlet coated Guardsmen or khaki clad soldiers filled our view and the sounds of military bands and the parade ground screams of my father filled our ears. The constant hum of traffic and the sights and sounds associated with it were the background to our everyday lives.In Lydd we looked out of the bedroom windows onto the sea. Between our house and the shore I seem to recall a wide expanse of salty brush and straggling shrubby plants. We had a front garden with a neat gate and some sort of hedging, grass lawns and a rockery. The air was clear and light and the tang of the sea, the scent of burning and the lilt of the wind filled the air. We had a grassy back garden with the domed mound of an old air raid shelter alongside the fence to the adjoining house; a good vantage point for peering into next doors garden or calling over the fence. Did we call out to the children next door? Who were they? I seem to think Auntie Pip lived next door. If she did then there would have been Uncle Norman and a couple of skinny children as well but they are lost in the mists of time along with the journey to this new home.But oh how well I recall the sad joy of standing on the dining room table looking at the brilliant blue of the sky and searching for the distant dots on the edge of the sea that might have been the ship carrying my father away from us. Even now I recall the heavy tug at my heart, and the fresh scent and soft swirl of the neatly ironed cotton frock beneath my fingers, as my whole being ached for the day when we would see him again."
'
Sight: A sis who was always mistaken for my twinSound: Two little gigglers sharing covers and trying not to wake the house.Touch: The rough skin of bark on a tree as Sis and I climb our way to the top of our world.Taste: Sweet, buttery goo of waffles for dinner. Mine and my Sis's favorite (next to biscuits and gravy)Smell: Of fresh cut grasses carried on a gentle breezes as Sis and I explored the great unkowns of outside play.