I love... you.

Today, approximately 1 half hour ago, I finished reading An Abundance of Katherines by John Green. Generally, I've tried to stop reading as much young adult fiction as I used to read and grow up into the "adult" world of novels. I have to admit I still enjoy a good young adult fiction novel as much as I used to. This novel was certainly one of those books that gave me pleasure in my heart to read. A basic moral to the story, so that I can set up my post, is that we all have stories. The past makes us who we are today. Our stories are what we leave behind. And by hearing someone else's story, we are changed if even slightly. And by telling our story, we can change someone else, if even slightly. That's a beautiful concept to me, and one I've always thought was true.

I'm a listener by nature. My name, Samantha, is even Hebrew for listener. By habit I tend to ask questions that delve into people's lives- past, present, and what they hope for the future. I collect stories. Some people collect rocks, stamps, or magazines, and I personally love to collect stories. Who each one of us is, is so intricate to the delicate way we are connected. God gave scientists the ability to discover parts of His amazing creation. He also gave people like me words; and ears to hear those words so that we could learn about one another.

Last summer I went down to Boise with my grandma and cousin. On the return trip home I asked my grandma to recount parts of her childhood, which she gladly did. I learned an abundant amount of information, some of which even her own children didn't know. For instance, my grandma used to dance!! How crazy is that? She was human? She was a teenager? By golly, it's so true. And it was lovely. She was bearing part of her soul to me, because the past once again, makes up who we are in the present. My grandma, at her 84 years old, was beautiful and vulnerable and inviting. Everything a woman should be, all because I asked her simple questions that began the journey of me getting to know her better.

This summer, I'm flying to Portland a week before our family reunion is to start so that I may spend time getting to know my grandparents who live in that area. I've spent weeks during summers previous as a young teenager, but never before has this urge to get to know them intimately been stronger. And it won't stop there.

I'm going to collect stories. Because for one, to know that someone wants to hear your story is probably an amazing gift (at least I think so.) But also, because a piece of each person will live in me... and I will be able to tell my children an abundant amount of stories. Because, as much as we hate to admit it, we are one people. God's children. And each one of us deserves to tell the story of our life, the story of God's life for us. And me? I want to know all of those stories.

If you ever feel like sharing, just know that I'm willingly here to "listen." I would love it as a matter of fact :) You are important to God, and you are important to me.

With all love,
Sami