Tell Me a Story

When I have a book celebration giveaway the way I am now for my July release Love Comes Home (it will be sneaking in stores very soon), I sometimes ask readers and friends to share a story with me when they send in their entries. It's not necessary to enter, but it's fun. This time I asked for Homecoming or family stories since Love Comes Home starts with WW II ending and the boys coming home.  

The story I'm sharing forward with you today is one from Brenda that points out something we all should keep in mind. We need to take time to share our stories with our families and listen to the stories our older family members have to tell. I so miss Mom being able to tell me the stories of back when she was a kid or when she first got married, but I am blessed that I did get her to tell me many of those stories before she lost those long ago memories. 

The old memories were the last to go, so we had a few years where I would get her to talk about them while we were waiting at doctors' offices or other quiet moments together. What a treasure those memories were to her and me too. Without them, I might never have written Angel Sister and the Rosey Corner stories that follow it up, Small Town Girl and now Love Comes Home. 

These days, we all seem to be so busy with all the electronic gadgets that can entertain us. But sometimes those electronic gadgets lose power and we have to come up with the old ways to entertain ourselves. That's what Brenda and her family did during one of those times. Her story below shows how sharing those family stories can make for new treasured memories. Here's her story.

One of the great memories I have is when a few years ago we had a huge snow storm and the electricity was out for 6 days. There was 6 of us in the house (husband, me, son, daughter, and three grandsons) as my daughter had MS and was bed bound. It was so cold, and we couldn't go anywhere to wait it out since my daughter couldn't be moved very easily. So we bundled up and sat around the living room and told true stories of days from the past....when the boys were little....when their mother was young....how my husband and I met and got married. The boys loved it, and still talk about it.  We lost my daughter 3 years ago, as she returned to the Lord, and are still raising our grandsons who are all teenagers now. That is one snow storm we will never forget. 

Thank you, Brenda, for sharing your story with us. Maybe we all need a snowstorm to make us lose that electric power now and again so that we can celebrate those special things that connect us and make us family.

Do you like hearing your family stories? 

Remember, you can still enter my giveaway if you haven't already thrown your name in the hat. Details on my website events page. Plus, remember I have the blog only giveaway too where I'm picking five winners to get your choice of one of my books. All you have to do to enter is leave a comment on one of my blog posts here in June (with a way to contact you). Each comment on a new post here before the end of June gets your name in the hat again. That gives you more chance to win. If you're in the USA or Canada, you can win a paper copy. If you live overseas, then you can win an e-book. Must be 18 to enter.

I'm the real winner when I get your comments. Love hearing what you have to say.

A Time for Stories

~The holiday season is such a great time for families to get together and share stories - some old and heard dozens of times and some others new and never heard before. Here my little granddaughter is sharing one of the never heard before stories. She's been making up stories since before she was two, so maybe someday she'll be like her grammy and want to write them down. I don't remember ever telling too many stories back when I was a kid. I would have been much too shy to take center stage like that.

~Several of my grandchildren show a flair for the dramatic and they all love stories and books. The littlest ones just want to chew on their books, but that will change when they realize there's magic in those words.

~There's magic in family stories too. I love to hear my mom talk about how things were when she grew up during the depression years. Her mama never put up a Christmas tree and so their presents were placed on a rocking chair. Nothing like the presents kids get these days. She said they'd maybe get a doll, an orange and some candy. Then when I was a kid, we did our Santa shopping in the "wish book." That's what we called the Sears Roebuck catalogue. We were given an amount and then we could mark what we wished for that was at or below that price. I remember almost wearing out the pages of those catalogues wishing. One toy I wished for and got from Santa was a Betsy Wetsy doll. Why in the world anyone would want a doll that wet, I don't know now, but I wanted it then. I also got paper dolls and games and chocolate candy that I hoarded like it was more valuable than gold. My kids have their own Christmas memories of getting up early and running to see what might be under the tree. And now my grandkids are making their Christmas memories that they may turn into family stories someday.

~To me that's the sort of thing that makes the best family stories. Memories of the little things in life that can forever warm your heart. One of those warm heart memories for me is how I spent Christmas Eve day at my aunt's house waiting for my mother and father to finally get there so the good times could begin. The tree lights would be blinking. Sparks would fly up the chimney when my granddad poked the coal in the fireplace. Brightly wrapped presents beckoned from under the tree. Delicious scents drifted out from the kitchen. The candy dishes were full of homemade goodies. The afternoon would drag along, surely the longest day of the year. But finally my parents would come in bringing with them the brisk smell of the winter air and then the magic of Christmas would begin.

~Now I wish I had been smart enough to ask the older members of my family to tell me more stories about when they were growing up. About their average, ordinary days and what their mothers and fathers or grandmothers and grandfathers were like. Some of the stories I heard. Many of the stories I can only imagine now. And yet all of that, the real and the imagined is stuffed down in a pot pushed to the back of the stove in my creative center where it's bubbling in a nice simmering stew. Ever so often something in that pot pops out and lands in a story. That's why, for a writer, the more stories she hears the better. That pot of creative stew is very greedy and constantly in need of being fed if you want it to keep popping. Sort of like that Betsy Wetsy doll I had. I had to keep pumping in the water if I wanted her to perform as promised in the advertisements.

~Hope your creative stew gets fed some wonderful family memories and stories this Christmas holiday.