“Then it was you who wounded Aravis?” 

“It was I.”

“But what for?”

“Child!” said the Voice “I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own” 

“Who are you?” said Shasta.

“Myself” said the Voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook: and again “Myself’ loud and clear and gay; and then the third time “Myself”, whispered so quietly you could hardly hear it, yet it seemed to come from all around you as if the leaves rustled with it.

This excerpt from the beloved children’s series the Chronicles of Narnia comes from “The Horse and His Boy“. Like all the books in the series this one combines a delightful story with truths that are understood by both adult and child. It is a story of talking horses, brave children, and a Lion that simultaneously protects and disturbs. The main human characters, Shasta and Aravis, share little in common other than their talking horses but in the course of the story grow to learn from, and love each other.

With the simple phrase “I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own” I am convicted every time I say inside “But what about them? How come her? Why do they get that? Why does he have to go through all this?”

While the questions are different, they all have the same answer. It’s not my story. I may never know why the person had to go down the path that they did, I may feel the torture of envy when I hear of someones success and wish the success was part of my story, or the distress of pain about the journey of another. Either way – it’s not my story.

As I close out the week I am acutely aware of this. There are some stories that I would like to know more about; there are others that I look at wistfully, longing to be the main character of the events that are unfolding. The words “Child, I am telling you your story…” bring me back to a page on my journey and are a reminder that the story I am living is the only story I can ask about.