.: same old stories :.

Nothing more frustrating than to hear a repeat telling of one of the classic stories of a person you know. What about that experience leaves me feeling like I am witnessing the edges of that person's entire history? I feel like these are the only things that they have to offer... and if I have heard it more than twice, I feel a pull towards someone new. Is it because of age? Is it the curse of a short-term memory? I guess I just feel frustrated with hearing a tale that I have heard time and again being rehashed as if it is something fresh. And... I feel frustrated with my frustration! Once again, I move that I consider it and other occasions like it moments for silent grace. A chance to release someone from my own gripping attitude and subtle judgments. I should count myself lucky to be surrounded with so many people, ones that seem so quick to offer me a story by which to settle, or even prompt, my own heart and soul. And sure, there are stories of my own moving and being that I continue to hold onto, ones that are littered throughout my own sermons, lessons, and discussions over coffee. Hopefully, there are people doing the same sort of releasing of me that I know I ought to practice in my own life. Rather than saying that we have indeed heard that one before, we nod and welcome the telling of that person's encounter or happening. And by that act, we continue to be those who receive others in by receiving their extended wisdom via narrative. No scowl. No rolling of my eyes. Just silence... and a smile. The frustration will continue to rise up within me. But I must remember, there are those who are longing to have others bear witness to their own story before they pass on into eternity. And I can count myself blessed by being one of those many trusted witnesses.