Hometown Madison - January & February 2017

Mary Ann Kirby
LOOKINGFOR
THE
STORY
Everyone has a story, don’t they? I often
make up peoples’ stories in my mind so that I
can fill in the gaps created from not knowing
details—and I’m not entirely sure why I do
it. I guess I’m just an observer of life. And
because I like to write stories, I’m always on
the hunt for one.
My husband and I have even made a
game of it. We’ll see a couple that we don’t
know at a restaurant and spend the next
thirty minutes creating their fictitious story.
It has made for some hilarious conversations
between the two of us as there are no limits
to the depth of detail that make this couple
extraordinary.
On Sundays, when people are asked
to come to the front of our church during
invitational, I often cry at their “stories”—
even though I don’t know what those are.
I sometimes wonder if they’re broken and
hurting and I all of a sudden ache for them
and the burdens that they may carry.
I imagine the single mom, raising a
family alone and trying to make ends meet.
Or the one that dreamed of children but
struggled with infertility. I imagine the man
that has recently lost his job and his insurance
benefits only to have just gotten a bad report
from the doctor. And all this is completely in
my imagination, mind you. I can’t hear them
when they speak to the pastors at the front of
the church—but I can see them—and for some
reason I’m compelled to give them a story.
Maybe I’m crazy. Or maybe it’s how I make
strangers more relatable. I have an intuitive
desire to connect.
Several years ago we had just moved
into a new neighborhood with super-strict
covenants. Our first Christmas season in our
new home had come and gone and Mardi
Gras and Valentine’s Day decorations had
begun to pop-up everywhere. Every day I
would ride by this one house that still had
Christmas lights hanging from their eaves.
And every day I would think, “Surely they’ll
take those down soon.”
I’m certain there were guidelines
somewhere that addressed the timely
removal of neighborhood Christmas
decorations. If not, there needed to be.
Another week would pass and the lights
still remained. I had become indignant
that they weren’t following the rules (what
rules?). I mentally drafted the letter that
would be sent to the homeowners association
demanding that their lights be removed.
When had I become Nosey-Nellie, the
judgmental neighbor that made everyone else’s
business her business? Why did I even care?
Aren’t we all guilty of doing this in some
form or fashion—making other people’s
issues our business? Don’t we often judge
people’s choices without fully understating
their reasons for making them?
The adored actress and comedian Betty
White was once quoted as saying, “I don’t
know how people get so anti-something.
Mind your own business, take care of your
own affairs, and don’t worry about other
people so much.” She’s 94-years old. I wonder
how long it took her to figure that out.
So on the 21 st of February of the very
first year in our new covenant-protected
neighborhood, 58 days after Christmas and
7 days after Valentine’s Day, the offending
home was lit up like I had never seen. I’m
certain it could be seen from space. Their
Christmas tree stood defiantly in the living
room window and the icicle lights that
hung from the eaves blinked as if to signal
their rebelliousness to the entire world. I
absolutely could not believe my eyes. Their
blatant disregard of holiday decorating code
was mind-boggling.
As I slowed my car and rounded the
corner to get a better view, a banner that
read, “Welcome Home Ryan” hung across the
garage doors right next to a flag bearing the
United States Marine Corps emblem. And then
it made sense. Their son was returning home
and they had “saved” Christmas just for him.
I burst into tears. First of all, I felt
grateful. My sense of patriotism immediately
outweighed my sense of incredulousness.
How thankful they must have been to have
him home and in the safety of their loving
arms. But then I felt embarrassed. They
don’t make enough lights to express the joy
my husband and I would feel had our own
son been returning home. To this day I am
changed as a result of that experience.
When you look at a person, any person,
remember that they have a story. Everyone
has gone through something that’s changed
them. Life is hard and everyone has ups and
downs—and fears and pain. Give grace, love
and support to those around you who may
have struggles you don’t see. Our opinions
don’t matter. But how we treat people, does.
I “imagine” Ryan and his family to have
had the most extraordinary Christmas-in-
February that ever was. And now, when
I see something that doesn’t necessarily
make sense to me, I try not to criticize it but
rather look for the story. After all, when you
actually realize there’s something you don’t
understand, then you’re generally on the
right path to understanding all kinds
of things.
Hometown madison • 47