Tell it to your children, and let your children tell it
to their children, and their children to the next generation.
One of my least favorite chores is dusting, so I usually
put it off until I absolutely must do it. I was at that point a few days before
Thanksgiving. I knew I had to get my house in order before my daughter,
Rebekah, and her family arrived. I removed objects from the top of my dresser,
including the mother-daughter figurine that Rebekah had given me for Christmas
a couple years back. As I wiped the statuette, I read the engraving on the back:
tell me a story.
It seemed a message aimed directly at me. Lately I had
been thinking about my writing and how I had been putting it off, like the
dusting, not because I dislike it (I enjoy it!), but because other things had gotten
in the way. I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. This was a confirmation.
An idea struck. What if I challenged myself to write one
story for each day of the Advent season? Could I do it? Could I allow the words
to flow from my brain to my fingertips without stopping to “workshop” word
choice and placement? I wanted to try. I wanted to honor the Savior with my
words without getting hung up on perfectionism.
When Rebekah arrived, I told her my idea.
“Do you think you have enough stories?” she asked.
