Doodling

Do you think it’s significant when you hear the same little known theory uttered by three different people on three different occasions within the same week?

The first time I heard it, I tipped my head the way our dog sometimes does when he’s listening carefully to us speak. He’s very interested in the words, but it takes time for him to process their meaning. The second time I heard it, I suspected there was some conspiracy and that the two speakers had somehow been in cahoots. But the third time, I decided to think about it more carefully.

It’s one of those simple ideas you probably heard in a high school English class, but didn’t pay much attention to, because at the time you were doodling a picture on a note you wanted to pass to your best friend when the teacher’s back was turned. I should have paid attention.

The theory states that in the literary world, with its countless millions of stories, there are very few unique plots. Arguments continue as to the exact number, but the pattern of fictional narratives boils down to this: birth, problem, struggle, resolution, death. I may have missed a few details during my doodle fest, but I think I‘ve got it about right. The saga is fundamentally the same, because human existence is essentially the same. We may think our troubles are bigger, nastier, and more painful than everyone else’s (I am certainly guilty of this), but we’re all traveling down the same road in one manner or another with just a few tweeks in scenery and wardrobe.

I was pondering all this as I sat in a church recently, surrounded by people I care about. Churches are good places to think about things like this. Whether it’s a baptism, a funeral, or one of the events in between, we’re all here together. And that’s the point. As in literature, the story may be the same, but the only thing that keeps us moving toward the resolution, that keeps us from giving up during the dark days, and enhances the rejoicing on the good ones, is the cast. Regardless of what role they play, the characters make all the difference. The hands we hold, the shoulders we cry on, and the laughter we share - especially the laughter - combine to create a tale worth remembering.

So when I heard this same theory repeated three times this week (and you do tend to listen more carefully to subtle hints while sitting in a church), it made me wonder if I need to take more notice of the characters in my own life. I thought about how often I get so busy with the details of the plot, that I forget to reach out to the people who make the story worthwhile. Maybe it’s time again to doodle a note.