This - if Tony and I can remember how to upload photos - is what I was doing today, telling the everlasting story - or part of it, because you can never tell all of an everlasting story - to forty or so children as part of our Easter workshops. This particular moment was about Jesus riding into Jerusalem on a donkey (if you look carefully you will see Mabel the Donkey by my right hand, which is on the left as you look at the picture). If the photographer had caught me a few seconds earlier or later I might have been doing donkey ears.
Telling stories is such fun and instantly rewarding. And easy, if you're a bit of a show off and like that sort of thing. You can use your voice, you can move, you can slow down, speed up. You can stir up excitement or keep the audience breathless. But to write a story, what do you have? Something to write on. Something to write with. Words.
And imagination. A mind and a heart.
Tell them or write them, stories are our memories, our heritage, and our key to closed doors. The shortest distance between a human being and the truth is a story.
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