Don't you?
Who doesn't?
I cry. I cheer. Sometimes I shout.
I love stories. I get right in there and become part of the group. I make friends with the characters. I love and support and cheer. I judge and reject and resist. These are people in a story.
I was the first TV generation. Story after story after story, from waking to sleeping. The people in the TV stories were always nicer than the people in life. I chose my television families. I resisted learning how to relate in this world.
I love stories. I come home and crawl into a story. And I stay there until I have leave.
I think that others love stories too. I know they have them to tell. But that requires listening. Can I love stories enough to allow them to tell them, and can I love them enough to listen. My base reward is that I get their story. Father, help me love this way.
And rest in heavy glory tonight on my son. I long to tell that story.
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Interesting perception of relating to the world.
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