The Stories We Hold

“Tell me facts, and I’ll learn. Tell me truth, and I’ll believe you. But tell me a story and it will live in my heart forever.” – Native American Proverb

My 11-year-old daughter, Miss O, came home from the second week of middle school with a story she was carrying. She said that there’s a 6th grade boy with ADHD. He’s short with short hair and wears purple glasses. She felt bad for him because her friends said that a teacher in a class stood behind him doing the hand motion for a chatterbox. You know – the talking with your hand kind of motion.

But then this kid got up to do karaoke at lunch. Apparently, they do karaoke on Fridays every week at her middle school. He picked a song and totally rocked it. He just gave it all he had and did great. She started crying as she told me this part because she was so impressed that someone could live out in the open like that, especially as a new-to-middle school 6th grader.

And I told her a story I was carrying. I was out walking Cooper the other day and from a block away saw my neighbor, Ken, out weeding. He lives one block west and one block south of us so not a close connection. But I have spent enough time walking with my dogs and children in the 26 years I’ve lived here that I’ve gotten to know these neighbors.

I watched as their kids left home. Then when they subdivided their lot and built a small house in the yard so their daughter and her husband could live in the house she grew up in. And then the daughter had two babies. We gave them our playhouse and our pink plastic “Fred Flintstone” car. So we’re close enough to be touched by each other but not in each other’s lives.

When I saw Ken, I wondered for a moment if I wanted to walk a different way. Not because I don’t like him, but because I knew in my gut something was wrong. The other day he was weeding his driveway and he didn’t look up. I haven’t seen his wife in a few weeks.

I chose to stay the course and used the block to just open my heart to hold whatever was coming. When I approached, Cooper leaned into him. As Ken threaded his fingers through Cooper’s fur, he quietly said, “I don’t know if you know but Marilyn passed away in June. She had pancreatic cancer.”

Oh dang. I remarked that she was young. Ken said she was 2 days younger than him – 75 years old. When I asked, he told me they’d been married for 48 years.

Both Miss O and I were crying by the time I finished telling the story. Two stories of the quiet struggle and courage of people living out loud. So many different ways to be courageous. The common denominator is that for all those that are watching, there’s not a dry eye in the house.

(featured photo is from Pexels)

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56 thoughts on “The Stories We Hold”

  1. That quote is so true. Someone once told me I was smart. I replied that actually I’m not. But I read a lot of fiction. Both of your stories are heart tuggers. Hugs to all the humans and furry members of your family.

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  2. Oh Wynne, I normally love reading your stories on my bus ride to work but this one was not a good idea this morning! 😂🤣 All kidding aside, Miss O has a great heart and may all kids with additional needs they’re navigating in school meet someone like her! I’m glad you ended up chatting with Ken – with helpful Cooper as a support dog for both of you – as I’m sure sharing that story with you provided him with some comfort and release.

    Wishing you all a good third week of school ahead – week 2 over here! 🙏😊

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  3. Definitely so many ways to be courageous and also we never know a person or their inner world which is why empathy is so important. Love that your kids are already so in touch with their emotions and are so empathetic towards others!

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  4. What a deeply moving post, Wynne. It’s extraordinary how both Miss O’s story of that brave 6th grader and your tender moment with Ken touch on the exact same truth: that taking a moment to truly see someone else’s courage changes us, too. Thank you for sharing these! ❤️✨

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  5. Your instincts, Wynne. You knew, you knew…and sweet Miss O. Always the one thinking about others, her eyes on those who feel the sting of ostracism. A great way to start the week, I’d say…your post has filled me up! 💝💝💝

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  6. We live in a time when many different sorts of courage are needed. One is what Simone Weil and the Bible told us about. To open fully to heartbreak of the neighbor, to give solice, and to open our arms and our homes. You know the lesson, Wynne, and you have passed it on.

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  7. Both stories are tearjerkers, Wynne. I’m especially troubled by the teacher’s behavior. She must know that this child has enough challenges without putting another target on his back by making fun of him. Miss O certainly understood that it was a poor choice. I wish I could have watched him get up to sing at lunch. I really like the school’s karaoke idea, especially having it once a week, which will keep it a special activity.

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  8. Wynne, what a beautiful post. It’s amazing how Miss O’s story about that brave 6th grader and your gentle moment with Ken both circle back to the same idea — that when we stop to really witness someone’s courage, it leaves a mark on us as well. Thank you for sharing this.

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  9. I hope like crazy the karaoke-nailing purple-eyeglasses kid has the last laugh. He sounds amazingly talented and unbothered by what others think. We should all have that kind of quiet confidence.

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