My mom used to take us out of school to go and see movies she considered important. That’s how I saw White Nights and the Back To The Future series. We would immerse ourselves in the stories and talk for hours afterwards about the characters, their choices, and what we might have done differently. I would emerge from the movies full of life and dreams and popcorn kernels lodged in between teeth.
To this day I find my childhood self every time I set foot in a movie theater.
When I am tired or weighed down by the everyday-ness of everyday. When I wonder why I am where I am. I am always able to rediscover parts of my story through watching parts of someone else’s.
A friend made time for me tonight. At almost no notice at all. And we sank into the depths of a story and spent time wading through its layers and wondering out loud how it could have missed the heart of the heart of the story that is the beginning and ending to every tale ever spun and every life ever lived. Because buried under every narrative it is always there, urging a more nuanced look at ourselves. It begins and ends with love. And at the center, comes an epic sacrifice from a Carpenter. The quintessential every man who is more than any man.
Who one quiet day in September called my mom to come follow Him home, and she did.
That is the part of her story I can’t read yet. How my mom knows more about Him now than she ever could have when we tried to map out what it would be like. That as much as she tried to “explain” the Back to the Future timeline to me, the continuum of eternity eluded us both. But how certain she was that dying is never the end of the story, just the middle. How the good guys win and the hero does saves the day and the gut wrench that comes with saying good-bye only hurts from this side of the chapter.
I have almost every one of her books.
They line my house with memories of how we tried to unravel the mysteries of love and death and the life to come.
We searched for truth in every nook and cranny of every story, no matter how unlikely the source.
Because we were convinced that the Logos resides in every tale, every dream, every bit of broken truth that is merely a shard of mirror reflecting back the Word that sustains all things.
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.
Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men.
The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it. John 1:1-4.
He is both my once upon a time as well as my happily ever after and I scour stories in search of the Word.
Sometimes in the dark of movie theaters, sometimes in the wrinkled pages of books that are as familiar as old friends, and sometimes at my computer screen reading your heart. Everything I read – everything – testifies that we are made in His image, an image cracked down the center and in desperate need of repair. We cannot eat our way there, we cannot travel our way there, we cannot love our way there, we cannot hope our way there …..
we can only surrender.
And let Him complete the work– the story– that He began in us.
“Child,” said the Voice, “I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own.” — C.S. Lewis (The Horse and His Boy)
Ok…this is good and I appreciate you putting it into such relevant words…reading John 21 this morning had alot of the same thots.
I to have lots of these moments of questioning, where i try to escape out of my own mind for its relentless nagging of the ehys and what ifs. Thank you for for writing this xxx
Savory writing here, Lisa-Jo.
Simply beautiful friend, well said! Loved this…Melissa <3
This makes me want to go re-read every book that’s ever crossed my eyes and see what you and your mother saw.
love me some Tracee time :) She is such a great reminder of how to find Him in his words and books… beautiful
Your writing just makes my heart sing Lisa-Jo. All of the beautiful words and then the amazing truth you write about. I just this is Gladys Hunt’s book “Honey for a Woman’s Heart” – “There is really only one Great Story in the universe. All other stories come from that one story.” She says so many of the same things you have just said. I marvel at the wonder of it all. Is it any wonder we love words and stories?
Wow, Linda, I need to go find that book. Because that’s exactly how I feel. There really is only one story that counts.
Jissie, so cool. I’ve read almost all of these (in the top pic!) I LOVE the space trilogy by Lewis and haven’t read it in so long I must find it again. How wonderful to share these loves with your mother. And now I feel a bit more connected to you too…
Lovies, xx
This is a beautiful post. Love your writing style, but more than that, the message you have conveyed here. And I’m a Back to Future fan from way back…circa 1985! ;) Just subscribed to your blog.
Lisa, what a beautiful truth for me to drink in before drifting off to sleep. Thank you (and your Mama!) for this.
Beautiful! (and a challenge for those of us who want to write stories.)
Hey Cuz, you had me in tears reading your blog. Loved it and remember how your mom used to take you to movies DURING A SCHOOL DAY and how valuable it was. So glad she stole the time and made rich moments. Such a challenge to all of us. The quote from CS Lewis is one Rob gave the children when they asked if I was going to die of cancer. Such a profound statement. Love you dearly
Kim
Hi there. Loved this post. It was inspiring for me to remember the power of words, of ideas, of Story . . . . and so the power of books and movies and art. Thank you for the reminder to delve into that with my own children a little deeper, like your mom did with you.
Love the CS Lewis quote. Don’t those books speak to the core of all of us?