Telling Stories

My life is lived in fantasy. I live incredible and heroic lives in my head. I realize of course that the last two sentences are an odd way to start this post, but my sisters have just inspired me. They are currently adventuring with their new “friend”, Molly. Molly is an American Girl doll that Anna received for Christmas. I’m completely excited for my sisters, but oddly enough seeing my sisters playing with that doll has caused me to reminisce. Reminiscing has led me to want to type. So here I am.

When I was young, I used to be that kid who got lost in the daydreams of an adventurer. Who am I kidding? Sometimes I’m still that kid.

I’d zone out during whatever it was I was supposed to be doing and instead imagine myself in an epic battle. I was typically fighting anywhere from one to a hundred and fifty-six evil brigands bent on torturing the helpless “DID” (Damsel in Distress). I would defeat all the villains and then die of wounds shortly after the fair maiden was freed. Then the “Molly” of the story realized that I was willing to die rather than let her get hurt. She would comfort me in my final moments, mourning the life we could have had together. Up until this point she had never seen me as anything but a decent fellow. Admittedly that part of my dramatic side has mellowed out, if only a little. It’s embarrassing to admit all of this, but it’s true.


I just found myself wondering why I chose to never let the relationship form in the first place, choosing to die instead of seeking my “happy” ending. Maybe I should seek a therapist, or a social worker, and discover the “true” reasons for this decision….



That was a joke. At least, I hope it was a joke.




Sometimes I take long walks down the trails near the Natchez Trace and imagine myself walking the grounds at Hogwarts, entering the Forbidden Forest. Other times I find myself writing my book. I’ve been writing it for four years now. I’ve realized that I skip around too much in my writing, but it helps me to gain perspective from the life of my characters. You see, in my mind I can go places and do things that I have yet to see and do. At least, my mind is trying to take me in the right direction.

I just stopped typing for a moment. Anna is making me laugh. She just asked me if I wanted to play with Molly. I then asked her if she thought that Molly liked me. She said yes. When I asked her why, she said, “Because you love me…and it’s your birthday!” Awww. If only reality would follow the reasoning of a child, not the other way around. The world might be a better place. So now I’m taking a short break to play with my sister.





Where was I? Oh duh, my mind. It skips around as much as my book does. Here come the memories. For tonight at least, the story that is my life makes all the sense in the world to me.

Chapter One. I remember nothing. I have seen photos though. I was brought home in a stocking at birth. I was months early, and very underweight. My first word was not mama or dada, according to rumor it was “bankie”. I, like Linus, appreciated the security that a warm blanket provided me. And believe it or not, my parents have forgiven me for prioritizing a blanket above them.


Chapter Five. I remember my first teddy bear, cabbage patch kid, and even my first doctor’s kit. I used to play for hours trying to make “Fuzzy” feel better. I was the explorer trying to find out what I can do. I also remember exploring my neighborhood in my mom’s sling. And I have very vague memories of my first sleepover. I cried for my mama until she came and picked me back up…it was only an hour into the party. My daydreams of bravery hadn’t started yet….


Chapter Eight. I remember the first girl that I that ever liked me, I liked her too. Her name was Hannah. She had a pet hamster, and gave me a piece of paper with a heart on it. I still have that piece of paper, it makes me smile. I guarded her quite often from the foes around us. I knew that one day she and I were going to get attacked by ninjas, but I would be ready. I had been given an “Aladdin” sword that year for Christmas!


Chapter Ten. I remember shocking myself with a hairpin and socket. It was in a completely empty room, right before we moved to Mississippi. I cried in there that day. I didn’t want to leave Alabama. Fortunately, my story didn’t end with my electrocution. I remember starting public school. I fractured my nose in a fist fight that year. After that fight I did start to believe in the power of my imagination again. For once, I had actually lived out a battle against the “forces of evil”.
I made the soccer team, caught my first fish, and gave my mom the “finger” (I didn’t know what it meant at the time) I have many memories of that year, but if I think emotionally it boiled down to one thing. I wanted to be accepted and I wanted to be loved.


Chapter Twelve. I remember names called out in jest that hurt. I played on the Basketball team at Colonial Heights that year. I remember starting to battle at the Pokemon League. I remember reading the Bible all the way through, so that I could prove Christians wrong. It’s sad, but true. The only friends I had were living in my neighborhood, and in my eyes they were all “Christian-hypocrites”. I remember being really confused. I felt like I was a good kid, but everyone knew that I was going to Hell. God didn’t fit into the story. There was no story. The daydreaming stopped too.


Chapter Fourteen. I remember Caitlin. She was a good friend, but she was infatuated with me. That’s not always a good combination. At first I think I enjoyed the attention, but after she started following me everywhere the novelty wore off. She knew we were perfect for each other. After all, we had won many tournaments together with our Pokemon decks, we must be meant for each other! I remember thinking that if I moved to Timbuktu I could live in peace. At the time I couldn’t spell Timbuktu.

Chapter Sixteen. I think that this is the chapter that is most important to the plot that is my life. Unfortunately it’s also the chapter that also has some painful memories that I don’t like to think on. Don’t get me wrong, most of the pain is gone. But for some reason the emotions start coming back, just the way I remember them.

I remember working at Mcalister’s. I remember my friend. I remember the day that she died. We had eaten lunch together two days before the crash. She believed in Him, and I didn’t (but I respected her anyway). I remember meeting Joey for the first time. I remember the week from Hell. I remember the year of fake prayers. I remember seeing for the first time that maybe there was some truth to the “Jesus thing”. I remember the day that I broke. Hope that doesn’t make sense. Peace that comes in pain. Belief that I’ll see her, see them, see all those I love again. My foundation had finally gotten through to me.

In the previous chapters I still hadn’t found the “purpose” of my tale. I only knew what I desired. I desired to be a hero, to be successful, and I truly wanted to be loved. These desires seemed simple enough, but there was nothing to motivate me to go through the trials that my story may include. I was Frodo without a ring, without a quest. Then Jesus saved me from myself. I had my ring, I had my quest. My imagination, my daydreams, my hopes, all these things combined could never have fathomed such a novel as the one I’m caught up in. This was my epic (pun intended). And it gave me reason to dream like never before.


Chapter Seventeen. I remember dating Laura. An experience that ended in so much hurt, and yet I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Admittedly, I’m an idealist by nature. However, I think even the most pessimistic of people would have to admit that many of the best lessons they’ve learned in life came through pain or struggles of some sort or another. But the pain caused by rejection of your heart always finds a way to come back to those that are ready to move on, even the optimists.

Regardless of Laura’s choice, I dealt with the hand I was given, and daydreamed less. It was at that point in my life that I fully committed my “sword and shield” to God, not to my romantic notions. Unfortunately, I unintentionally became the religious fanatic I had always avoided, I was a Pharisee.

The plot thickened as the years passed, my heart grew strong again. I started to daydream again. Deep down I believed that I was ready to survive my next epic battle. This time, in my story, I wanted my role to be that of a lover as well as the fighter. But God in His wisdom knew better than I did, and closed the doors that He knew weren’t ready to be opened. I was no longer an adventurer, nor was I a lover. I was simply a learner on a pilgrimage, seeking answers.


Chapter twenty-one. This last summer as another chapter was added to my story, my pilgrimage seemed like a failure. My quest was lost. As the weeks went on, I would stand in my “peaceful place” and look at the world, wondering why any of this was worth it. I felt as though I’d played pilgrim long enough.

You never see scenes like this in the epic movies. The heroes don’t lie in bed for days wondering why they can no longer feel. The heroes in the movie take it in stride and keep going. So as the summer progressed I let the numbness, felt by those who have lost too many times, in battles of the heart, take over.

I failed, at the time, to recognize that perhaps the numbness was God’s mercy and grace. Perhaps God knows our hearts can’t handle the full brunt of reality. He makes our burden lighter since we are so frail, since we try to fill the gaps with them, not Him.

I believe that God knows that we might accidently seek our salvation in the “significant other” that we wait for. (Donald Miller makes a point like this in his book Blue Like Jazz). I don’t mean to say that we “truly” make them God in our lives. But I do think that we build someone up so much that we stop seeing them as just a person…we see them as miracle workers. But that’s part of the beauty of a relationship, seeing the one you love and not looking for them to magically make your life better…just knowing that that you love each other and trusting in God for all the rest.


Chapter Twenty-two. I just got done listening to my dad explain that he’s willing to let me get a job anywhere around Madison when I’m done with my master’s degree. I can’t even begin to explain how much self-control I’m exercising in not responding.

I turned twenty-two today, but in my Parent’s eyes I’m still the boy that rode in that sling. Just last week, on my last day of finals, I woke up to someone knocking on our dorm door. Russ opened it, and there stood my dad. He had apparently decided that I was wrong about the time I told him my final was. Since he couldn’t get me to answer my phone after nine tries (it was off), he came to tell me I had missed my final. My final was still four hours away. *sighs* Their hearts are right, I just wish that they’d learn to trust a little.

And though twenty-one years have passed and I’m capable of being mature, I think I’ve grown up still believing in the power of my imagination. Even after taking on the world of responsibility, deep down I wish that I could just be a knight, a captain, or maybe even a bard.

Over the years, I’ve come to realize this simple truth about my story. I am but a pebble on a mountain, a grain of sand in the desert, a drop of water in the ocean. If the Master’s plot includes some pain or some disappointment…He’s still the Master. And He still loves. I am accepted and I am loved.

So are my desires to be a hero, lover, or even a musician over? No, those desires will never leave my heart, unless God chooses to take them away of course. Now when I look at “my” story, I don’t see myself as the main character, I see myself as the random guard at Helmsdeep fighting at the beck and call of my Lord and King. When the random guards lived or died in the movie, the plot didn’t end. It was tragic to let a soldier die, but we didn’t sit there and refuse to watch anymore. When it comes to a film, the audience knows there’s a bigger picture. The same is true of our reality.

All of this flowed forth just because of a doll named Molly, who reminded me of adventures from my past. Thank you Molly! Thank you Emily! Thank you Anna! It’s for because of heroes and heroines like you that I will carry my “shield and sword” into battle every day. I still have my dreams and daydreams, but life is about something grander than “my” story. It’s about God’s story!