This is Janneke's way of telling me a bit about her morning at school. She doesn't say much, but she tips her body back and forth in her chair and leans over her toes. I am trying to learn her language because I think she's got a great story to share.
It's Monday night, and I am in between bedtime tuck-ins with the girls. I've been thinking about the previous post these last few days and wondering if I should have even posted. The line between private and public can be blurred in the name of awareness - that sometimes seems more like an expose'.
Yet, his honest words shared reminded me of the need to be, well, honest.
I believe there is a story lurking behind his words. I might hear it someday - but I won't post it. I simply wanted to reiterate this first conversation because I was in awe of and challenged by his directness. I wanted to share our conversation as a story because stories tell us so much. I was moved by that concept in this article, Messy Stories. It's a good read.
Favourite quote? If a primary goal of advocacy for those with disabilities is to insist that society see us as fully human, let's start by allowing people [of all abilities!] to tell true stories that bear the marks of that humanity - tension, paradox, regret, pain and grief as well as joy, success, happiness, love, and accomplishment.
(I also love the article because my new favourite book Far From the Tree is quoted.)
Stories are central to our humanity. They help us remember lessons and lives. I look at our family's photos and see the stories. The stories aren't always predictable or pretty, but they are true and have taught me heaps.
(One of the truths: that little girls aren't so concerned if their baby sister is crying. They'd rather play with daisies.)
Here's to the importance of storytelling. When my family gets together in the summer, niece Katrina insists all the adults tell a story at the campfire. Here's to the added importance of telling the stories -and The Story- down through the generations.