Donald Miller, author of A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, admonishes his readers to invite people into their stories. "A good storyteller doesn't just tell a better story, though. He invites other people into the story with him, giving them a better story too" (Miller 236).
His wisdom directs us, when we do good in the world, to invite people to join us.
Miller's concept has given me the courage to invite my sisters and Mom to help fund a Nepalese woman's college. It's given me the courage to make an instagram post inviting followers to raise money while hiking for children.
Miller's concept filled my mind when I thought of industrious, energetic grandchildren visiting for Christmas and all the holiday decorating I didn't think I could tackle by myself.
I determined I would invite these children into my story.
Last Christmas, Arlo asked if he could organize my pantry. He was only four years old. My pantry is large. I'd seen him pick every last grape from his mother's grape arbor. I'd seen his intense play with trucks and his careful lining up of legos on the shelf. I agreed to let him organize the pantry, and I believed he could do it. However, he wasn't quite ready, and I ended up with disorganized shelves of random food stacked in odd order. But this year, when I took the Christmas village buildings from the storage room, I thought of Arlo. The task is his. He will have the entire basement kitchen bar to create a village with the ceramic pieces I inherited from my mother.
When I fell in love with the table top center pieces at the neighborhood Christmas breakfast, I ordered a dozen. Their soft glow placed around my home would bring a beautiful ambience. I remembered the impending presence of a precocious four-year-old.
When I told Leo's mother that I was leaving the task of placing the birch trees throughout the house, she responded, "Oh he'll love that. While a guest at his other grandma's house, he was telling her that certain Christmas decorations belonged in different places.
The trees arrive the same day as Leo's family. He and I will unpack them together, but he will be in charge. Wherever he wants to put them. And if he's up to the task, I will assign him to turn them on and off each day.
Inviting people into your story is a chance to guide and share responsibilities. There will be joy in watching the village take shape. There will be joy in seeing the battery powered birch trees strategically placed by a four-year-old. It gives me a chance to watch little minds. It gives me the chance to relax a tiny bit more before the house bursts with love and energy.
Best of all, I'm helping the little ones create a better story. Even four and five year olds thrive with purpose.
I will invite the whole family into my story. Yes, I will do the shopping, and I've hung the snowflakes; Tony will cook Christmas Eve's traditional kung pao dinner. But Silas will be in charge of the Christmas day meal. Holly will make the cherry rice. I'll put Paloma in charge of Hungry Hippo.
As family, we are a part of each other's story. Sharing the tasks makes it even more so.
We are always invited to participate in the greatest Christmas story of all~~Come Follow Me.
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