My Story

My Story. What is that? What is "my story"? People say, "that's the story of my life", but what do they really mean? What IS the story of my life? 

No, I'm not talking about that ridiculously cheesy country song (That's My Story and I'm Stickin' To It) that I happen to know all of the words to, unfortunately. I'm not talking about my parents' story or my family's story. What is MY story?

Recently, several things have made me think about what I'll be remembered for years and years after I'm gone. Kenny Marchetti spoke a few weeks ago about our identity and brought up an interesting question. We probably all remember our parents names and our grandparents names. Some may be able to remember your great-grandparents, but how many of us can really remember our great-great-grandparents names? Do you know where they lived. Do you know what they spent their time doing? Do you know their favorite foods? Do you know what their passions were? What their weaknesses were? What their "story" was?  Not I.

On the Today Show this week, they "unveiled" the Top 6 places in the country to live the American Dream. Here are the Top 6. If you live in one of these, let me be the first to congratulate you.

6. Norman, OK

5. Franklin Township, NJ

4. Irvine, CA

3. Naperville, IL

2. Fort Collins, CO

1. Plymouth, MN

They even said that if you are single, the best place to "find love over 30" is in Madison, Wisconsin.

Great. 

So, what does this mean for my story? In order to live the American Dream, I need to live in one of these areas? Surely not. I'm failing miserably if that is the case right now. Ha. In all seriousness, though, is my life aligned with the story of Christ or am I just borrowing some of His story and inserting it into "my" life wherever it fits and makes some sense?

Every month, David and I and Kate go to visit a nursing home a few blocks away and we host a worship service with them. Last Sunday, I sat next to 'Pink'. That was her last name, but that was all of it she could remember. She kept saying, "It's so good to be back. I was gone for a while, but it's so good to see you. You look great. I can't believe everyone is just the same." I prodded a little more to see if I could unwrap some of her story. I figured out she must have worked at New York Hospital once upon a time. I asked her if the hours were long and she replied like a pro, "You just get used to them." 

"I see," I replied. This went on for about thirty minutes. I realized that she really didn't remember anything other than that she had been gone for a while and now she is back. She couldn't keep up with our worship guide or know which page we were on, but replied with a heartfelt "thank you", every time I turned the page for her. What struck me as so amazing was that when we would start to sing. She didn't need that worship guide. She didn't need to be on the same page that we were. All that had been "stored" in her heart came out so genuinely. As we sang, 'Tis So Sweet To Trust in Jesus', she was able to sing every word of that chorus by heart. It made me think. You know, that's what matters. 

What am I storing up in my heart right now? What will be remembered about me? Chances are that my great-great-great-grand children won't know my name or know that I lived in NYC or know what I did or didn't do. While that can be depressing, I think of it more as encouraging for us to live for Christ. He'll remember. If our lives are aligning with His story, we really aren't wasting our time on this earth. Forget about MY story. It's really all about His and what I can do to make sure that continues on for as long as He determines.