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Stories on the Way

All’s I Needed was a Four-Letter Word

By Mark Carroll

My birth mom tried to kill me. She stuck me in a bureau drawer and just closed it. But I had two older brothers, and they were old enough to know a baby had to eat.

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One of the benefits of spending time together in Waltham is the chance to hear some amazing stories—all different kinds of stories, told over a cup of coffee during the breakfast program, or on a Riverwalk bench on a sunny afternoon, or under the gazebo on the Commons during a downpour. 

 

It’s a benefit, too, to be able to tell a story. Stories let us say out loud who we are and what we believe. They let us say out loud what we think life is really about and what really matters. 

 

There’s a kind of generosity both in telling stories and in listening to them. Buddhists might say, “Giver, receiver, and gift: three turnings of the wheel; not separate.” Appreciating this, we want to offer even more opportunities for story-telling and story-listening, by occasionally sharing stories in this space, in the story-teller’s own words.