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A Cup of Comfort Introduction to A Cup of Comfort It is only the story . . . that saves our progeny from blundering like blind beggars into the spikes of the cactus fence. The story is our escort; without it, we are blind. —Chinua Achebe Anthills of the Savannah Let me tell you a story—a true story . . . What magical words those are. At the mere mention, I instinctively listen up—suspend disbelief—and open myself to receive the golden nugget of humility or hilarity, insight or inspiration, I know will come. The uniquely human gift of story has guided and comforted us for time immemorial. It is with the miracle of story that our ancient ancestors passed along the wisdom that enabled them to thrive. For centuries, stories have been used to share humanity's most empowering truths and history's most powerful lessons. Truth is not only stranger than fiction, it is also stronger. Because in each true story of a real life, we find a piece of ourselves, a connecting thread that tells us: Yes! This is what it means to be human. I am not alone. You are me, and I am you, and they are we, and we are all together in this miracle of life. We share stories of extraordinary events and people to keep cultures—and hope—alive. Over dinner, around crackling campfires, and at family reunions, we trade stories of good deeds done and of others with hopes and hurts just like ours. Generation after generation, we tell and retell cherished family stories of courage, of achievement, of love. We use stories to teach and inspire and comfort our children. For one shy little girl who loved words and who pondered the mysteries of the world nearly from the day she entered it, stories were a lifeline. I don't know how I would have survived without them. I had the good fortune of being born into a family of seanacies, natural-born storytellers, who regaled me with tales—most of them true or mostly true—all of my life. Sometimes the stories were administered like a soothing or invigorating balm to help me through a rough patch, soothe my aching heart, or give me a boot in the booty. Like when my grandmother told me the tale of my father's teenage ascent of "fool's hill" when I was making that same uphill climb. She later repeated the tale to me when I was struggling with my own teenage daughter's climb up fool's mountain. Both times it helped give me some perspective on my situation. I've passed on all those wonderful stories to my children and now my grandchildren, adding my own along the way. They are the most precious heirlooms I could ever receive or give. When I learned to read (at four, my parents aren't exactly sure how, but I suspect it was because I knew stories were "in there"), I gobbled up books like most kids do candy. Of all the books I read and loved during my childhood, the ones I loved and remember best are the true stories: The Diary of Anne Frank, the biographies of Anna Pavlova and the great John L. Sullivan, The Bluest Eye, Anna Karenina, anything by Willa Cather. As soon as I learned to print my letters, I started to write stories—and have never stopped. After a false start as a ballerina and detours as a secretary and marketing executive, necessary evils to support my children, I started making a living by telling stories and helping other people tell theirs. So it is that I came to this book—or rather, that it came to me, on the wings of Bob Adams, the publisher and heart of A Cup of Comfort. Bob wanted to gather together true stories about the extraordinary experiences of ordinary people. He wanted the pages to be filled with powerful, creatively told stories that made you think, lifted your spirits, and inspired you to soldier on in—or, rather, to embrace—this journey called life. He wanted, he said, to give people a warm and wise cup of comfort within the pages of a book. I promised him I would. Months of searching and reading and fine-tuning thousands of stories later, here it is: some truly wonderful true stories about the incredible experiences of real people. We hope you enjoy your Cup of Comfort. Please do share it with your loved ones. And join us for another cup again soon. —Colleen Sell |