Anecdotes in the Valley

“Here begins the Good News about Jesus the Messiah, the Son of God …” Mark 1:1

A while back I was driving down Bear Trap Canyon from Bozeman and looked at some of the scrubby evergreen trees that dot the landscape along the way. I was doing a bit of daydreaming as I sometimes do when traveling down old familiar roads, and an image began to form in my mind.

It wasn’t much of an image; it was more of a thought or concept, and as it rolled around that vast expanse of inner cranial space that keeps my ears from touching, the barest outline of a story found a nook into which it took up lodging, and stuck.

I gave it no more thought as I continued my journey home, but the seed had been planted. Tendrils stretched out and, from time to time, began to tickle my imagination here and there until I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Every now and then I would sit down and try to give the story some shape and substance, but each draft turned out to be a false start, a false hope, a false beginning. It seemed hopeless, and yet the story continued to nag and nudge until I found the format in which it begged to be written. When that happened – BANG – it was there, and I honestly struggled to keep up with the tale as it unfolded far faster than my hunt-and-peckery little fingers could fly.

I finally finished it last week, although it is “not ready for prime time,” as they say. It hasn’t gone out to an editor or publisher, nor even to an agent. It may not even ever get published, and that’s OK, for that’s not exactly why I wrote it.

Why did I write it? Simply because it is a story that would give me no rest until I gave birth to it. Now she needs to be cleaned up and allowed to mature, but that will be fun. The labor is finished, now the work begins.

That’s the way of stories, isn’t it? Don’t they beg to be told?

Humans are the only creatures I know who gather together to share stories, ideas, thoughts, and to ask questions.

Deer, elk, and geese may congregate in herds and flocks for a wide variety of reasons, such as procreation and security, but humans often assemble for little more purpose than to talk.

I recently spent an hour or so with a person who complained about a friend who had bored him with her endless tale of woe when they were out for a walk. Near the end of our time together he caught the irony of having done with me what he was complaining about his companion doing with him. We couldn’t help but laugh.

Much of the time, that’s what we’re here for. We tell each other our tales; we enhance and embellish them in order to gain a more attentive audience, and when done, we feel a bit relieved that we’ve been heard and understood, which is all most of us really want out of life and companionship.

We want to be heard and understood.

One of the gifts we provide one another is the time and place to share our anecdotes and significant events in our lives. I think it is helpful if our stories serve a purpose. I must admit I bore easily when I listen to someone prattle on with gossip or inane triviality, or when it’s all about “them”.

I also know that what may be trivial to me may be inordinately important to the teller of the tale, but still …

The pathway to good conversation has got to be the capacity to share and to listen. There is much each of us has experienced than can help others to live better. The Bible tells us we should work to build one another up, rather than to tear apart or knock down.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t appear our politicians have gotten that memo; I see the attack ads have already begun. Sigh.

A friend once said, “We should say what we mean, and mean what we say, but not say it meanly.”

I think that is a good place to stop in this, our anecdotal valley. May your words be like honey; Sweet dreams!