Went to a storytelling thing in the city a few weeks ago. 

Flew solo … something I normally don’t do. 

Usually my inner voice prepares a convincing list of reasons it’d be better for us to stay on the couch. 

Something about the event’s theme — Bridges — made me think of a small story that might be worth telling. 

I’m never really sure of such things. 

Inner voice likes to remind me I could be full of shit. 

Might be a story only I want to hear. 

Which is among the reasons I appreciate the event’s drop-your-name-in-the-hat approach.

Lets the universe decide.

Was late peeling off work.

Got there about 10 minutes before it started. Place was pretty packed. 

I made a beeline to the front to see if they were still taking names. Saw Jacob, the event’s producer. He asked if I wanted to tell a story. 

“Thinking about it,” I said. 

“Awesome. We only have two people so far, so you’re guaranteed a spot.” 

Gulp. 

Didn’t expect the universe to decide so quickly. 

But then, Jacob did this thing. 

He looked me in the eyes, put his hand over his heart, and said, “And I’d consider it a personal favor if you could shake the bushes and get a few more people on stage.” 

“I’ll do my best,” I said.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I was flying solo … and that I didn’t know a single other soul in the place. 

Not to mention the event was starting in like five minutes. 

“And don’t forget that you’re a socially awkward introvert,” my inner voice chimed in.

Yeah, that too. 

But, there was just something about the way he asked me. 

Heard someone describe it once as “the happiness of being called upon.”

I had just enough time to grab a beer before things started. 

While waiting for the bartender’s pour, I noticed a person at the other side of the bar chatting with some friends.

I don’t know if this makes sense, but have you ever seen someone smile … and, just by the way their smile lives on their face, you can tell they’re a character? 

So I notice such a smile, and then a second later, hear the owner saying to her friends, “You know, I’ve been coming to these things for two years … and I have yet to put my name in the hat.” 

A second later we make fleeting eye contact. 

And I blurt out from across the bar, “TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT!” 

My inner voice does a spit take …  “What the fuck are you doing?”

And I’m like, oh … what the fuck am I doing?

“Sorry,” I say. “Um, don’t mean to intrude … but you should totally do it.” 

And she says aloud to herself, as much as to her friends (and, um, me I guess), “You know, I was actually thinking of something … 

“ … but I don’t have it worked out or anything.” 

“Don’t overthink it,” I volleyed back across the bar. “They’re actually looking for storytellers. I think tonight’s the night.” 

“I … I’m not prepared,” she said. “I’d have to be prepared …” 

But then … she reached into her pocket. Pulled out her phone. 

“I’d at least have to put some bullets down … to see if I even have enough.” 

I grabbed my beer and went to find a seat. 

As I passed behind her, I said, “No pressure … but just so you know, I’m preparing myself to witness history.” 

The place was pretty packed. Saw a couple open rows in the back. 

Spotted a guy sitting on the aisle, also flying solo. I asked if I could sit next to him. 

“You look familiar,” he said. “Have you told a story before?”

We got to chatting. I learned that he was a friend of Jacob the producer. 

“Have you ever gotten on stage?” I asked.

Nah, he said. Shook his head for emphasis. 

Let a couple seconds pass.

“You know, I was kinda’ thinking of something on the way over,” he said. 

“Dude … you should totally do it,” I replied. “I think tonight’s the night.” 

“Ah …” he started walking it back in his head. 

I wasn’t going to let him off the hook.

“They’re actually looking for storytellers. Jacob told me … they don’t have enough.”

“Really?”

“Don’t overthink it,” I said. 

“Ah … I’ll decide at the intermission,” he said. “See how things are going.” 

“Wise move,” I said … following it up with one last, “But you should totally do it.” 

So, the event starts. First storyteller gets up on stage (and is amazing), then the host goes to pull the second name. 

And I see the person who I’d last seen at the bar jotting down bullets into her phone … strolling to the stage.

My heart leaps. 

I elbow my next chair neighbor and whisper, “We’re about to witness history.” 

And I was right. 

Her smile totally gave her away. She had a light, for sure. 

In fact, her kindling of that light was the topic of her story. 

That she didn’t wait to have it all figured out before stepping into the spotlight … was every bit as inspiring as the words that tumbled from her tongue.

What a gift to bear witness.

When she finished (to raucous applause), I exhaled. 

My work is done here, I thought in my head.

The intermission comes. Host goes to pull the next name from the hat, and … my next chair neighbor get up. 

Not sure if you’re keeping score here, but … I’m two for two. 

And his story? 

Epic. 

A love story … which he chased across states … countries … years … before it all ran aground. 

At the moment of their breakup, they had to decide who got to keep the German Shepherd they’d raised together. 

He had rescued it as a puppy. 

He loved the dog so much. 

Knew he’d take better care of it than she would. 

And he let her keep it. 

And I’m wiping tears. 

That wasn’t even the end of the story, which ended poignantly on a bridge in Pittsburgh, tying back to the event’s theme like Simone Biles sticking the landing in a floor exercise. 

It was note perfect, I tell you. Like, one-man-show material. 

He gets back to his chair … I’m like, “Dude,” held out a fist for bumping, since the lump still in my throat kept me from saying more.  

Then, I hear the host call my name. 

I’m still a bowl of soup from my neighbor’s tale.

But I get up and tell my tiny story. 

About a scruffy saint I encountered in a coffee shop who reminded me — in both word and deed — that receiving kindness is every bit as important as giving kindness. 

I wobbled in a couple places. 

I pretty much wobble everywhere I go anymore.

But I told the story that I needed to hear.  

At the end of the event, they bring everybody back on stage. 

Then it’s over.  

Under the best of circumstances, I’m bad at exits.

Flying solo in a roomful of strangers, after being vulnerable on stage for six minutes, I just wanted to get out of there. 

But I had to say thank you. 

Saw Jacob at the front of the stage.

I told him I fulfilled the mission. 

He returned a quizzical look. 

“Two of ‘em were mine,” I said. 

You should have seen how the smile lived on his face. 

“I’m proud of you,” he said. 

Receiving those words made me put my hand over my heart. 

The happiness of being called upon. 

I turned to make a beeline for the door. 

Didn’t get very far before someone stopped me. 

“I just wanted to let you know that your story made me glad I came,” she said.

Oh my gosh, I replied.

So, it wasn’t only a story that I needed to hear. 

Almost started crying again. 

Then, she did the kindest thing. 

“Can I give you a hug?” she asked. 

Our stories?

Bridges indeed.  

__ 

Ever since that night, I keep coming back to the same four words. 

Four words that I’ve come to realize are a magic spell … for experiencing awe.

“If it wasn’t for ….”  

Wherever you are … whenever you are, say those four words, then fill in the blank with the things responsible for this … whatever this is. 

Keep filling. You don’t have to go very far before you strike awe, which is merely a bridge … to profound gratitude. 

If it wasn’t for Jacob’s Great Commission … 

…  I’m not sure I notice the way a smile lives on someone’s face … I don’t interrupt a conversation from across the bar … she doesn’t pull out her phone … punch in the bullets that give her the confidence to make history for herself, and do a thing she’d never done in two years of showing up …

… I don’t fist bump a next chair neighbor for exponentially expanding my understanding of humanity’s capacity for grace (he let her have the dog for cryin’ out loud). 

If it wasn’t for the theme of the night, I don’t think of a story and spend six minutes wobbling on stage, so I can be reminded yet again by a stranger that … 

… it’s just as important to receive kindness as it is to give kindness … 

… that we should never be shy about sharing our stories, because they just might be somebody else’s bread … 

… that even when we’re flying solo, we’re not necessarily alone.

And perhaps most importantly, I don’t discover this encouraging, bush-shaking voice that I didn’t even know was inside of me … that’s pretty fucking good at its job. 

And that is making its debut on the page here to tell you that I would consider it a personal favor, if you would promise me …

… to never underestimate your capacity for being awesome. To be generous with your invitations, your smiles, your encouragements, your hugs, your stories. To never forget that we can’t change anything, but we can influence everything. 

No pressure, but just so you know, I’m preparing myself to witness history.