Tag: heaven

Tell Me Again, About the Rabbits

.Reading time 5 minutes.

This year has been an odd one for me because I have read much more than I’ve written. I began working down a list of the “100 greatest works of fiction.” I had read many of them, but I found two giant holes in my library: modern books and American literature. So I dove into Harry Potter, The Help, and Game of Thrones interspersed with Melville, Hemingway, and Steinbeck.

That last one, Steinbeck… he hit me in the teeth with Of Mice and Men. I respect his ability to pack such deep, meaningful characters and a heartbreaking story into 112 pages. That is genius. Most authors today seem to write for the trilogy or get so enamored with their own words that 112 pages is barely a back-story. It also hit me because I could identify with Lennie and the rabbits.

The impoverished and simple Lennie just dreams of holding a rabbit in his palm and stroking its soft fur. But he can’t. He can’t and never will. So he constantly begs George for stories about the rabbits.

bunnyTell me again, about the rabbits

The rabbits represent something of substance that a hopeless drifter has no chance of claiming. The rabbits are a thing just out of reach – a dream that could never come true. That thing we want, but cannot have.

We’ve all dreamed of things we couldn’t have. Sometimes it’s a person or a relationship. Often it is just that we want more: more money, more stuff, more recognition. More would make it better and fill the void.

Most of the things we spend our time dreaming about are material. With the right preparation, bankroll, or a stroke of luck, they could be attained. But like Lennie, the thing I want I cannot have. I want it so badly that I often feel my bones ache to fill the void.

Tell me again, about the rabbits

Labor Day Weekend four years ago brought news that Kylie’s cancer treatment had failed. We were scheduled for a five-day hospital stay; but they sent us home while they planned a new course. Because of the unanticipated time with her sisters, Kylie was thrilled. But that news marked the beginning of a downward spiral. We never got ahead of the cancer until we lost her months later.

I will never hold her again, or hear her say “daddy”, or see how she reacts to the attention of boys. I’ll never be able to see her on stage, share a cup of coffee, or walk her down the aisle. Those are things I want and cannot have. I can never have. I will never have.

Contentment is elusive when you see people all around holding their rabbits and your rabbit is but a memory.

But along with the ache that comes from wanting something you will never have comes a paradox. While I live in jealousy of rabbitful families, I don’t begrudge them their rabbits. I want everyone to have their own and joyfully hold them forever. I just want mine, too.

Tell me again, about the rabbits

And so, like Lennie, I dream. I am a drifter in this life who dreams an impossible dream about holding a thing I will never again hold. I smile, I work, I play, I have laughter and fun… and yet the allure of the rabbit’s soft fur always tugs at my heart. It’s a beautiful dream that necessarily awakens to a sobering reality. My palm is empty… there is no rabbit. There will never and can never be a rabbit.

Tell me again, about the rabbits

Lennie settles for stories about rabbits and so must I… in this life.

But I believe there is a day coming when my dream will come true… when Kylie will take my hand and show me a land of promise and reward to which no work of fiction can compare. That belief, though resolute, rarely makes the waiting here easier. I see now that this life will be difficult until that day.

But still, I will dream.

Tell me again, about the rabbits

bunny

 

What’s Your Story?

.Reading time 6 minutes.

When I was a boy, I was big. Despite my size, I had great hands and a good arm. But none of that mattered when I put on my helmet and shoulder pads because the coach only saw big. I got in line with the boys trying out for quarterback and wide receiver, but he moved me to the offensive line and told me that the only time I got to touch the ball was if there was a fumble. And if there was a fumble, I was only allowed to fall on the ball – never, ever, never, ever, never try to pick it up.

Note the discontented #63 who is not #12 or #88

I remember one game, we were losing late and the coach called a screen to my side of the field. The play developed and I ran ahead to block. I couldn’t see the action behind me, but we kept moving downfield – no whistle, so I kept blocking. As I approached the end zone, something strange must have happened and I saw the ball in front of me at about the 5 yard-line. I wasn’t engaged with a defender at the time, so nature took over and I grabbed the ball and ran into the end zone. An offensive lineman’s dream. I scored the winning touchdown!

Everyone was cheering and crowding around me… except my coach.

At the ensuing practice, my coach yanked my facemask and pulled me all over the field while yelling, “You had one job. One job! Fall on the ball!” I ran suicides for hours and then a drill where another coach would throw a ball and I had to plop on it.

Fair? Maybe… maybe not. But it is a part of my story.

 

We are all living a story.

 

I believe stories have power. I believe that a good story, well-told can change the world.

 

There are five basic elements that a story must contain:

  • characters
  • setting
  • plot
  • conflict
  • them

 

Let’s take the Bible. It is a story book – a love story between the characters of God and Man, with Satan thrown in as an antagonist. The setting is three-fold: Heaven, Hell, and Earth. And the plot is played out over several thousand years as man demonstrates his inability to achieve holiness. The Old Testament points out continual conflict, usually brought about by the weakness and folly of man. And the New Testament shares Jesus the Savior and his atoning sacrifice as the theme and resolution of the story.

Just like he did in the Bible, God is weaving a story in and around each one of us. All of our stories are different but they will all contain the basic elements of story and they are all worth telling.

Here are seven things experience has taught me about story:

You are not the author of your story – Of course, you have input on the action – often through human fault, weakness, and disobedience. But God is writing your story and mine.

You can alter the plot – Twists and turns happen in stories. If you are dissatisfied with your story as it is being written, consult the author and look down a new path.

There will be conflict of some kind – Conflict is not a potential, it is an assurance.

Your story can be used for good – No matter how unexceptional you think your story is, remember that the author is the preeminent best-seller.

You may not be the main character of your story – For every quarterback on the football field there are five linemen. Just like when I was a boy, I did not get chosen to be the quarterback or wide receiver of my story. I am made to block for a twelve-year-old little girl.

You may not like your story – Loss, heartache, and pain may make your story seem unpalatable. But that doesn’t make it any less your story.

The resolution of a believer’s story will not take place here – For the believer, the story remains unresolved until he or she hears, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

Although you are not writing your story, you have three very important roles to play:

  • Pay attention to how those elements that make up your story come together.
  • Decide how your story can be used to benefit others.
  • Share your story as often as possible to help as many people as possible.

 

 

Your story matters and deserves to be told.