Story Telling

This morning at 10, I got to read a bedtime story to some little girls, some of whom were in their 60's, 70's and 80's.

I read them a story called Something From Nothing. It's the tale of a little boy whose grandfather makes him a blanket. The boy loves his blanket and uses it until it's all worn out. His mother wants to throw it away, but the boy insists on taking it to his grandfather for repairs. His grandfather cuts away the bad fabric and uses the remaining material to make a jacket. The story follows in a rhythm, with the boy wearing out his things and the grandfather making smaller and smaller gifts with the remaining fabric.

At last, there is nothing left. Nothing, that is, except a story.

Isn't that the way our life is? We were fed and clothed, we've received some pretty special gifts through the years. But all of that wears out, and in the end, all we have left is our story. I've been thinking about my kids' story. What legacy am I leaving them? What will they have that's worth telling?

I can't wait to hear.