The Storyteller: Guardian of Memories and Maker of Wonder
I come from a long line of storytellers. Somewhere deep in my bones, I’ve always known that storytelling is more than just words strung together. It’s an act of preserving, of guarding the sacred moments and memories that define us. To be a storyteller is to be a keeper of time, a guardian of memories. My task is simple yet profound: to give future memories to those willing to nurture their imagination.
When I’m telling a story, it’s mine. For a moment, it lives and breathes in my voice. But the beauty of storytelling is that, once I’m finished, the story is no longer mine. It belongs to those who hear it, those who choose to remember it.
Even Jesus was a storyteller. He wasn’t just a preacher delivering messages from a pulpit; He used parables to draw people into the mystery of heaven. When He told His stories, they belonged to Him, born out of eternity and the desires of God. But once the words left His lips, they became the treasures of those who heard and chose to remember.
And that’s the wonder of His storytelling: every word He spoke carried the weight of heaven, an invitation to walk out the truths He shared. Through His stories, He brought heaven to earth, planting seeds of divine imagination in those willing to listen and believe.
To be a storyteller is to stand in this sacred space. It’s to offer pieces of yourself, knowing that your words might spark wonder, healing, or revelation in someone else’s journey. My stories are a gift—mine for a moment but ultimately meant for others to carry forward.
So I’ll keep telling them. I’ll weave words that stir hearts, trusting that those who listen will remember and live out the beauty of these shared memories. Because in the end, every story, no matter how simple or profound, holds the power to bring a little more heaven to earth.