Having growing up in Catholic schools from start to finish, all my friends were raised Catholic, all the weddings I went to were Catholic, and all the non-birthday parties I went to were for Catholic sacraments. When I would say something about church, everyone knew what I was talking about. Then I entered the workforce and I had a Muslim boss who for a time ate a date after fasting all day. One time the really cool Jewish lady who instituted Falafel Wednesdays at the office told me about how she was getting her kitchen cabinets cleaned out for Passover. At another job I learned of a woman’s journey where a surgery gone wrong claimed her fertility. Yet another workmate shared bits of how her family fled their home country and how what you see and hear about in the news is a sliver of what’s really going on in the Middle East.
To all those people, and others, and likely to you:
I needed to hear your story.
My views of the world, of love, of family, of community, and of God are better-rounded because of all the stories that people shared with me. And, I’ve been healed and freed from things and awakened to other things because of them.
This is why I am sharing my stories. Because maybe someone needs to know that they’re not alone, or that there’s hope, or that they can be brave too, or that maybe they can try seeing God differently this time.
And not necessarily because my own stories are jam-packed with all that wisdom, but because for a long time I’ve been listening to people who, it turned out, I could relate to and who found hope and who are brave and saw God differently that time when……. Someone needs to hear your story. So share. Not in a social media, like-hungry kind of way. Let courage hold your hand and love weave into your spoken words and share your heart for the chance that someone really needed to hear that.