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The time had come to clean out the apartment and prepare it for the new owner. It was home for 7 years - a cozy sanctuary in the changes that had come in life. A friend has lived in it for a couple of years and has moved on to follow some exciting dreams. It would become home for another young woman and her dreams. In particular there were two cedar chests there that needed to find a home - one belonged to my Grandmother and the other was my High School graduation present. Both of these hold treasures that hold stories and history, dreams that were, memories and pieces of life that were passed along to me. They have kept ‘things’ that are pieces of stories. My Grandmother’s chest sits in storage waiting for the right space so it can be used again and the graduation present has gone into the first home that my niece has bought for herself. New stories will be unfolded and kept as she continues her life journey.
Stories passed from old hearts to younger hearts have been the way of protecting and keeping traditions and cultures. Yet if we stop speaking the stories it seems as if the silence begins to tear down the invisible treasure chest that held so much of who we are. Who will hold these stories and keep them safe, alive, vibrant and of value? Who will give the story tellers a voice of dignity? What will happen to the life line of hope and determination, ritual, and sacredness if we no longer speak the stories to each other?
One beautiful summer day a friend invited me over for brunch and as we sat on her deck in the sun, enjoying the beautiful food she had lovingly prepared, sipping chilled white wine, she shared stories of how many of her beautiful things had come to reside in this home. There are treasures that when spoken of, keep the stories of family, traditions and heritage alive. Her beautiful home was alive with stories that came out as we moved around the house and she shared her Arcadian heritage.
The necklace in the photo is a Celtic Love Knot, a circle that is joined yet it can open and look different but the circle of love does not come apart - always staying connected, always holding all the pieces of a full circle. It is the necklace my husband gave me on our wedding day. This photo sits on my dresser and every time I look at it I am reminded that his heart keeps my stories and my heart keeps his. Love is meant to keep the stories and hold them with honour always. Learning to do that is a life journey that the Spirit continues to teach - She is another keeper within us of stories, keeping all the pieces safe and sacred.
Cleaning out the apartment brought up memories of a place in the journey where I sat with those who showed me how to tell my own story. Telling the story in safe places unravelled so many threads within that were tangled and knotted and only by bringing them into open spaces could one begin to know the truth that comes when the silence is broken. I am so grateful to each person that sat with me in that season of life and the mentoring of how much treasure comes from the listening places and keeping the stories of others. Where would I be if I had not been able to put the stories out in the open and learn firstly to look at them myself and then to allow others to ‘see’ me through them? It is as if each listener put their hand over my heart as I opened it up to let in Light, truth, honesty and the fragrance of freedom. Those who hear our stories give us the courage to look within and begin the work, or continue the work, required in order for us to begin to live again. They encourage us to pull back the curtains and open the windows of inner rooms that have been too long without life, without the wind of the Spirit, and without the warmth of the Light.
A gentleman stepped into the small restaurant kitchen one evening to say hello. It opened up a flood of memories. His step sister Edith was my dear friend and mentor. She died at a time in my life when so much was unravelling and changing. Yet the wisdom she spoke is still whispered in my heart.
I am not sure that we can ‘save’ another by hearing their stories but we do often give the story teller visibility and help them look within to find the resources the Almighty has given them to begin to breathe again, to walk, to move through the darkness and into the Light, and find healing. It is not for us to hold them back, but to let them continue ‘becoming’ who they are. There can be a deep betrayal and re-wounding when those who held our stories have difficulty truly seeing us for who we are now.
Keep well the stories you have been given to hold, keep them safe, keep them within with dignity, hold them wisely, and honor the one who shared them with you. They are precious.
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