On Stories and Open-Eyed Wonder

a writing prompt for you + February Writing Hour

Welcome to Writing in Company. Each week I share some words and a writing prompt, meant to be jumping-off points for you to write about what matters. Use the prompts however you like—to journal, to draft thoughts for your own writing project, as meditation or prayer ideas, or for another creative endeavor. You can always look back through the archive for more ideas. Grab your pen and paper, and let your words loose on the page.

When was the last time you heard a great story?

I’ve heard so many in recent days. The story of my mom and dad’s first date. Stories of home from women in a retreat with me—a few who have known me all my life. Stories shared around tables as octagenarians wrote in response to Where I’m From by George Ella Lyon. Even more stories shared from pulpits, plane seats, and podcasters as I’ve traveled around stormy skies and up and down interstates.

Two weeks ago I sat in a ballroom with hundreds of other educators listening to Mark Yaconelli tell stories that captivated us all. Mark is the founder of The Hearth, a community storytelling resource and training center, dedicated to sharing the transformational power of story. His most recent book is Between the Listening and the Telling: How Stories Can Save Us.

Mark told a story about taking his young daughter for walks in the alley behind their house. She’d close her eyes, and he would lead her carefully, moving her into position to see something wonderful. Bringing her right up close to a tiny snail painted on a mailbox, he would say “Open your eyes." She’d open them to take in the small wonder. “Now close your eyes,” he would say, then he’d lead her further along to the next thing. Like a patch of lavender with bees hard at work.

“Open your eyes.” Lavender, bees, wonderful! “Now close your eyes.”

A few steps further there is something else small and special. An acorn, a spider’s web, a sparkly bit of ribbon. “Open your eyes…”

Years later, his young adult daughter will still say to him on a hard or ordinary day, “I’m closing my eyes,” and he will lead her to see something wonderful.

He told this story to a bunch of tired church educators, struggling with changing church ecosystems. We are innovating and experimenting and our churches want that but also don’t, and it’s a lot right now.

“Close your eyes….” he encouraged us. “Now open your eyes.” Look at that older member sitting with a four-year-old, sharing a crayon. They are learning to worship side-by-side. Wonderful. But just over there that new member is sitting all alone, why isn’t someone making an effort, we are trying to be a friendly church, can’t we just— “Close your eyes…..” Take a deep breath. “Now open your eyes.”

Look at that pile of donated coats and mittens to share with our neighbors. So much generosity. So wonderful. But who left all that trash under that table? Why didn’t the group last night clean up after themselves, and why am I the only one who seems to notice the mess— “Close your eyes…” Take a deep breath.

There is goodness and wonder, gorgeousness and generosity all around us. But we walk around looking at everything else, distracted. Sometimes we have to get right up close to the wonderful—be led to it—have our noses pointed right at it—and be reminded to open our eyes and notice it.

A good story like Mark’s can help us see and notice something we might have walked right past. Wandering down the alley of someone else’s life, having them point out the wonders they see and know, can show us the wonders of our own lives.

A good writing prompt can do the same.

a writing prompt

Take a walk, open to wonder. What would you show someone else, leading them by the hand, until you are right up close to the wonderful? Maybe you spy something beautiful or strange or memorable. Maybe something tiny. Maybe something that makes your eyes well up, or makes you giggle.

Take a good long grateful look, then write about what you see. Describe it in detail. And give thanks.

February Writing Hour - Saturday, Feb 24, 4 pm Eastern

My next live writing hour on Zoom for paid subscribers is in a few weeks. Take note of the date and time now! If you want to write in company with others, you are welcome to join us. You can upgrade your subscription for a month ($7) just to try it. A separate email to paid subscribers will go out with the link, or you can find it on my Substack tab called Writing Hours. Let’s write together.

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