There’s almost always more to the story…
As friends and I drove to a women’s retreat on Friday evening, I made a quick comment about the forest- it looked like it had been clear-cut, and I said so. Today as we drove home, we read signs that told the story.
120 mile-per-hour winds blew through the area a few years ago, apparently damaging the trees to the point that they needed to be removed. The forest was replanted the next year, and with closer inspection (through the car window on winding roads- you do what you can!) I noticed saplings.
It reminded me of conversations about people- students and friends- who have mostly-unknown stories. The stories explain why we are what we are and refute the easily-made assumptions about each other.
Stories can’t, and aren’t, always known, though. Between miscommunications, professionalism, and a desire to keep private the stories that are not ours to share, and plain old insecurity, errant assumptions abound.
In the meantime, I sense my own opportunity to shift the angle of my assumptions. What if, instead of assuming I knew, I remembered the incomplete nature of my awareness? What if I assumed that there’s more to the story?
Maybe love would blossom and healing would be fostered. Maybe I could extend grace more automatically and judgement less often.
Maybe the greater Story would be better known.