Christmas gifts

    I love stories.  I love to read and see and hear stories.  When I talk to others, I love listening to their stories.  How they met, trips they have taken, kids, grandkids, anyone that has a tale, I will listen to it.  Being an English teacher is not the perfect job for me.
    Um, what?  Are you being sarcastic?
    No, I am not.
    When I was in college, one of the classes I took was "Teaching Writing".  A class of about 20 of us and the professor asked,  "How many of you are going to be teachers because you love writing?" with the implication that writing is our passion.  All but 2 of us raised hands.  In the course of the conversation, it was revealed that writing, not literature was the reason why most were becoming English teachers.
    Huh. 
    Perhaps it was just my class?
    I like writing but it certainly wasn't my passion nor the reason for my becoming a teacher.
    What I loved were stories.  Telling, hearing, discussing.
    No, my perfect job is storytelling.
    That is why Jarrad's gift to me this year was this:

   Yes, they are charms.  I love it.  And they will tell a story that I can wear on my wrist.  They tell the story of me.
    We all have stories; they define us, they mold us, they make us who we are.  Each decision that we make is a story.  Every place has a story; specific dates have a story. 
    One of my aunts tells how she met her husband in middle school.  There was a group of 7th graders lost in this big and new to them school.  No one knew where they were going but my not yet uncle pipes up, "I know where to go!  Follow me!"  So they did.  He took them the wrong way but, she says, she has been following him ever since.
   I love that story.  Short but it says a lot.  If you knew them, you would understand the depth of that simple story. 
   I love to listen to stories my grandfather tells me.
   His dad hated to drive so when my grandfather was about 12, he always drove his father everywhere.  Grandpa lived in a small mountain community in West Virginia - ok, is there anything but mountains in W. VA?  Well, when the sheriff would see Grandpa driving, he would pull the car over and scold Great Grandpa. Who would pretend remorse and switch places with his son just until the sheriff left.  Then they would switch back and continue on their way.  I don't think that there was anything that my grandfather can't do.  I think he is very confident in his abilities and that started young.   Would you trust your 12 year old to drive a car?
    My dad drove the church van and my mom wanted to go to church to dedicate herself.  So a friend of my mom's who went to Dad's church arranged for the van to pick her up.  Mom says she thought he was so cute and Dad says Mom's hair and her skirt were having a race to the middle.  She usually swats him at that part while he laughs.  They both were smitten with the other at first sight.  And they both were shy.  
   3 stories, short in telling but long on impact. 
   We are all stories.  Every decision we make has impact.  We get to chose what kind.

    I think that is great.