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fter a long span of time, I still remember the gist of the story. I read it in the Sunday School quarterly my church provided for boys in my age group. In the story, a young boy came downstairs dressed to go to church services with other family members. This Sunday, however, he was not wearing his usual dress clothes. Instead, he had on casual or everyday clothes, which in my boyhood would have been overalls or blue jeans, a shirt he wore for work or play, and everyday shoes–clod-hoppers, as we called them. His father objected to the boy’s attire and told him to go back to his room and put on his Sunday best. The boy explained his reason for what he had chosen to wear. He had invited a friend to attend church with him, but the friend’s family was poor and the friend had no Sunday clothes to wear to church. He would feel out of place and ashamed to go to church in the clothes he had. The boy told his father that to put his friend at ease, he would dress as the friend did and accompany him to Sunday School and worship. All these years, I have remembered the lessons of that story, even if I often have failed to practice them: True friendship involves caring, sensitivity, and a willingness to put another’s feelings first; concern for another person’s spiritual welfare will accommodate itself to that person’s needs. A simple story made a lasting impression on me.
Most of us can recall stories that remain meaningful to us, for almost everyone likes a good story. Somewhere, individuals may exist who do not have time for or appreciate stories no matter how gripping, moving, entertaining, or educational they may be. My guess is that such people are few. From childhood, most of us have been drawn to stories, written and oral. Today, we appreciate good stories skilled storytellers tell or write. Good storytellers can make mediocre stories come alive; inept storytellers can butcher excellent stories. Talented storytellers can enable us to experience dramatic stories that are memorable, enriching, and enduring.
