Telling Stories

The stories we tell illustrate a lot about ourselves –who we are and how we got here.
When we look deeper, we realize stories also connect us to something larger than ourselves.
-The Miracle Collectors

June is a month for celebration: graduations to the next grade or the next chapter, vacations with family and friends, or just the appreciation of a warm summer day underneath the shade of a leafy, aged tree. All are opportunities for connection to others, to nature, and to ourselves, a major theme in The Miracle Collectors, and as Katie writes about in this month's blog, being open to connection keeps life interesting.

Collecting Miracle Moments One Story at a Time.

Joan and Katie

Joan and I were chatting on the phone the other day about this month’s blog, as I walked down a NYC street. I was lamenting the fact that I had no story to impart and was feeling stuck. “Maybe I’ll write about connection,” I said, one of our core themes. I told Joan I had come across the term Ubuntu again recently, which is an African saying meaning “I am because you are,” about the interconnectedness of all human beings.

You know that feeling when you mention something like the make and model of a car and suddenly, all the ads you see on social media or wherever you roam online, are shiny ads for that thing you mentioned? Well, two hours after my Joan conversation, I received an email and eventually a story, which felt a bit more ethereal than Big Brother, Google, or Alexa listening in on my conversations!

Jim Stephens grew up in River Oaks, Texas where his dad was stationed at the nearby
Air Force base. In October, 1960, as a freshman at nearby University of Texas, Arlington, he lived with his two best friends, including Jim Odem, who one afternoon wanted to go for a drive to discuss “girl problems.” Their drive was not in any particular direction, and Jim just listened to his friend, because Odem “didn’t want my advice.” Eventually, they ended up at Benbrook Lake and reservoir about 15 miles away, where they both noted a new pavilion had been built on the top. They decided to go up and sit to continue their conversation.

The lake was deserted except for a dad and his 2 young children frolicking in the shallow water by the beach and an older man, presumably the grandfather, watching from shore. Jim
knew there was a steep drop off past the shallow end, and as he watched, the dad with both children in his arms, went under. Three times he saw the children’s heads come up but no dad. And then nothing. Jim yelled at his friend and ran down to the beach, concentrating to keep his eye on the exact spot where he last saw them go under, throwing off his shoes and jumping in. On his third attempt to circle under the dark water, he was certain they all were lost, but on his way up, he bumped into the backside of the dad who was somehow still holding on to the 2 kids. Jim pushed them up to where he could stand and pulled the dad out to the beach as Odem grabbed the kids. They were able to get them all to cough and to breathe. The frantic grandfather helped rush them to their car and left before any introductions were made.

Many years ago, Jim tried to get the Fort Worth Star Telegram to do a story, because he
wanted to know how the kids were and thought maybe they would still be in the area and would see it, but the Star wasn’t interested. He has never forgotten the warm surface water
and how cold and dark it was as he went further down in the lake that day. He understood that the dad refused to let go of either child, which could have freed an arm to save himself and one of his kids.

It never occurred to Jim that perhaps it was a miracle until recently when he started to watch an old series on miracles from the 90’s. He began to look for other miracle stories, which is how he found us. The random drive, the new pavilion, the timing, the fact that he was known for his strong swimming all conspired to save 3 lives that day. Ubuntu, whether in a timely rescue or the gift of an amazing story, I am because you are. Especially, when it is the grace of the universe listening in. (Katie)