My Story: Entry 1

The following is a story about me. It's not exactly a journal. And it's not really an autobiography either. I choose to see my life as a long, cohesive story. Everything fits together, and everything is full of meaning.

Entry 1: (3 or 4 yrs. old)

I remember crawling up the stairs. At the time, I didn't know that the stairs belonged to a house at the end of a cul-de-sac in Valencia, which is a suburban town in the Santa Clarita Valley of California, which in turn is one of fifty of the United States of America. At the time, all I knew was the crawling and the climbing. I didn't have to crawl up the stairs; I was old enough and big enough to just walk up them. But there was something appealing about pretending that I had to. It's an accomplishment to climb a flight of stairs, but it's a tiresome chore to walk up them.

Nothing in this world, and no experience in life is inherently meaningful. The significant moments of our lives are only memorable when we see them as being important. I would argue that we only find such moments important when we see that they are connected with something bigger than the present, when we see them as part of a larger context.

When I look back on my life, I see a string that leads from one memory to the next, and it tells a story. But there are so many strings and so many stories to tell! As I jump from memory to memory, you will trace a different string, you will hear a different story, and Lord-willing you will find new stories in your own life.