We all have one.

A story. Our story. The story of who we are and who we’ve been and what we’ve seen and what we dream.

The story we tell ourselves of who we might have become.

The story we tell ourselves of what we’re really worth.

The story we’re actually living and the story we actually want to live.

We all have a story.

We all have a story.

You. Me. That driver who just cut you off in traffic. The man who shuffles too slowly down the grocery aisle in front of you. That lady in church who always looks so well put together you can’t seem to help comparing your own scuffed shoes to her polished ones and feeling just a little less than you want to be feeling. You think maybe her story is just a little bit better, or at least a little bit more polished than yours.

But the thing about stories is – we don’t wear them on the outside. Stories are far too sacred to show in public like we show that new sweater or that fancy upsweep.

Stories are far too private to go telling them to everyone or maybe even anyone.

But here’s the other thing about our stories – my story and your story and that perfect-shoe-lady’s story – they reveal what’s real and what’s really important and when you’re invited to hear someone’s real it’s a holy moment and a wholly revealing moment.

Empathy opens up when we hear what’s real.

Understanding does too.

Love knits us together when we share the sacred space of our real story.

But of course we do not, really we cannot, share our story with everyone. There is far too little time in this life and not everyone will take the time to earn the right to hear that story.

So mostly, we’re sharing the planet with people whose stories we will never know.

But maybe just knowing that they’ve got one can open up a bit of empathy? Maybe just knowing that we’d really understand and we’d really probably love if only we knew that person’s real.

And maybe we really can soften the heart and quiet the judgment and extend the hand of grace.

Yeah, maybe we can even stop being irritated at the driver who cuts us off and the man who’s taking too much of the aisle and too much of our time.

Maybe we can admire that lady’s shoes and leave it at that.

Maybe we can all lean a little harder into loving and a little less into comparing because there are 7.442 billion stories that we will never know.

~xo,
LuAnne