Storied DNA

sunrise is fuller
when you're next to me

          If researchers were to examine my genetic make-up, they’d find that the building blocks of my DNA are stories—books stacked on top of one another and twisted into a double helix—encoded to inform me of who I am.

          Ever since I was a child, I loved stories.  Being the fourth child in a family of five daughters, I have heard countless anecdotes, at times listening to them as the sole audience and at other times as a fly on the wall. I have heard and read numerous narratives that have made me laugh; ones that have made me gasp; and ones that have made me sigh; but the best stories have made me cry.
          How many stories do we hear in our lifetime and how many of those stories do we actually retain in our memories?  And what percentage of those accounts do we file away next to our own experiences because they tell us of who we are?  It has become apparent to me, that there are stories that have interwoven themselves into my understanding of my own experiences; and those stories function as signposts throughout my life.  I have been brought to a point where I now understand that every experience of my life produces its own dictionary—words used at a particular time, for a particular person, about a particular longing.  Therefore when others tell me their tales, I flip through the pages of my own stories to match my words with those used in theirs.  I light up when I discover a shared definition.  I sigh, “Ah yes, here we are.  I understand.  I understand your meaning.”  Then I laugh and cry, and say, “I know you, because we speak the same language.”  And I am grateful, so grateful, because my meaning is now confirmed by the other. 

dancing with my niece YJH at sunrise.
Photography by Yellahs Mik (Sept 2010)

          Therefore, as I blog bits of my life, you will find that I am only able to talk about myself through the use of stories I have grown up on, namely stories from the Bible—stories that have become my DNA.  Because my struggles, longing, and redemption are the same ones as those of Jacob, Noah, the prostitute, the Shunammite, the pearl, and all the myriad of characters in the New and Old Testaments.  Somehow their stories lend meaning to mine.  My meaning matches the language found in their stories and the gaps between my narrative and theirs are as tight as the gaps between the books on a bookshelf.  Ultimately my life is held upright by the support of the stories next to mine. Therefore, their stories are signposts that cheer me on as I seek that which has been pursued from the beginning of time—the longing for God.

          And so, it is with this longing that I look forward to hearing your stories.  I look forward to listening for your meaning as I close my eyes and feel for the shapes of your words.  Because I trust that as I tell you my stories—my hidden heart, my secret thoughts—surely, you will recognize me.  In my stories, when I laugh, when I murmur and groan, when I surrender, surely you will know me.

Photos were taken by my younger sister who woke me and two of our nieces at 4am in order to drive out to Moses Beach, Long Island to catch the sunrise on one brisk late September morning in 2010.  My younger sister has always ushered me into every adventure I've had thus far in life.