To Write or Not to Write

Tonight we watched Harriet the Spy with the kids. Little Man seemed to enjoy it, and I think he got the point. . . if the point is that mean kids deserve what's coming to 'em.

Maybe he didn't catch the finer points. But he'll probably have to write a paper on the book someday, so it'll all work out. 

Photo source

Now what Princess got from the movie was a little different, and pretty straightforward: a list of things she wants. She asked for a cat. Lots of cats. And she asked for a typewriter. 

Ahh, the typewriter. So nostalgic. So romantic. Such a terrible pain in the neck. And after looking at the price tag on nostalgia, I'm sorry to say a typewriter's not happening. 

As for me, Harriet reinforced this truth about stories: They can hurt, or they can help.

I've often thought about writing our story, telling a little about what happened in the churches we pastored. I have so many great stories to tell - tales of sacrifice and hospitality. I could write books about people who gave and people who served and people who worked without credit or applause. 

But they'd be upset if I told you how awesome they are. 

And then there are the other stories, the ones that aren't so easy to tell. I'm sure master writers could pen them without hurting anyone or casting aspersions - or maybe they wouldn't have cared about that. But as often as I've tried, I've never published those stories. They're too messy. (You know about messy stories.)
Most of all, I want to tell our stories - all of them - with wisdom and not with spite. Our wounds are long and well healed, but wrong words are a blade. Good stories don't make healthy skin bleed.

But then a story without a struggle doesn't tell the truth, does it? Nothing is beautiful without truth. (That's Keats, via Golly.)

So maybe Harriet said to tell the story sometime. And she's right. 

Another day. 

Thinking about stories,
Becki*