As little children, we flocked to our piles of books, our public libraries, just dying to breathe in the worlds beneath bound covers, the adventures in script and print.
And oral societies all over the world held on to the stories they told generations back, and still sit around the campfire and repeat the forever-powerful words: the lives of the people, the hearts and souls, the stories of mankind and relationship.
We live stories, and we become part of each other when one story carries another, when one arm links another, when fingers intertwine.
We live stories so that I may begin where you end, so that our intersecting may become the very breath of God.
God in humanity, God in our midst.
We’re the storytellers of our day, brave and bold, surrounded by life well-lived.
Gather to the fire.
Gather to the storybook corner,
to the hearth and flame,
and let’s tell one another how we’ve come to this place.
Please join me as we celebrate each other’s stories, eclectic and real, broken and whole, finished and open-ended.
I’m so glad you’re here.