If I was a greeting card, I’d be one of those illustrated story cards, the ones with the little built-in music tracks. I honestly can’t remember a time I wasn’t captivated by words, pictures and music. Or by wanting to create them for others. (You may have noticed how full of pictures, and sometimes even music, my blog posts are.)
As early as age 2 (I’m told), I started telling stories: Reenacting scenes from favorite movies and TV shows on the sidewalk outside, and vocally recreating the music. One lady—I’ll call her Mrs. Crank—actually alerted the police. Twice. I also told stories by drawing pictures from favorite books on that same neighborhood sidewalk. Which resulted in Mrs. Crank permanently banishing me from “her sidewalk.”
After reviewing my SAT scores, my high school career counselor said, “You should go into the arts.” “Which one?” I asked (I’d just come from a play rehearsal en route to my private writing time, after which I was off to band rehearsal). “All of them,” she said. “I simply can’t imagine you doing anything else.”
I eventually realized all my artiness had a connective tissue: storytelling. Even my songs and poetry told stories. But a while later I hit a crisis. I was tired of telling stories. “So what?” I thought. “What does it matter? They’re just stories.”
Then I met the ultimate Storyteller, the One who told, and is still telling, our universe into being, and I finally began to understand what my storytelling was for. It was to reenact my Creator’s stories. And you know what? I never get tired of telling those stories, or doubt their value. Ever.
One such story is my feature film Healing River, which premiered on Amazon Prime last weekend. If you haven’t seen it yet, may I suggest you give it a look? Healing River, winner of over 20 film festival awards, nominations and selections, is now drawing wonderful, heartfelt responses from “the neighbors” online (and so far no Mrs. Crank in sight). See? Here I am on the sidewalk again…