Tuesday, January 22, 2013

A Story Worth Telling


Every night, my son and I have a ritual. We brush our teeth and get in our pajamas. We sing a song, then we say a prayer. And then I tell him a story. 

For a while he wanted the stories to be fancy and sprawling in scope including everything from dragons and knights to talking animals and of course potty humor (he is a five year old boy, after all). but lately he has wanted the stories to be "real." He asks for stories of relatives and friends, or historical people like presidents and national heroes. Being a history major, I am glad to oblige--after all, these are easier to recall than the adventures of Walter the Brave and Heroic but Occasionally Flatulent Hippopotamus. As a matter of fact, the real stories allow me the best opportunities to talk about things that actually matter most. The real stories are stories worth telling. 

This has never been more true than last evening. 

Last night at bedtime, Cooper and I went through our routine and settled into bed for a story. Seeing as how we had the day off from school because of it, I decided that I wanted him to know about who Martin Luther King, Jr. was and why he was important. 



We wrestled for the first few minutes just getting Cooper to say his name correctly--it does have quite a few syllables to it, not to mention a suffix. After finally getting it right a couple of times, I actually started the story.

Inexplicably, Cooper listened more closely than usual as I explained that he stood for what was right even when people around him got mad, and that he said that we should treat everyone fairly and rightly regardless of what they look like, and that he chose to love the people who hated him and even hurt him, and that his voice was not silenced even when he was killed. 

I will never forget when Cooper said, "He was a lot like Jesus.

I was so proud, "Yes he was. He was very important. You know that you are important too. And I hope you are always a lot like Jesus. Good night, baby boy. I love you."  

I left the room as he recited the name over and over to remember it: Martin Luther King, Jr. I am glad he knows that name. 

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