Everybody loves a good story—a spine-tingling mystery, a suspenseful adventure, a powerful biography, or even a sappy romance. Best of all, who doesn’t love a great story of a real overcomer—triumph of an ordinary soul least likely to succeed who does something stupendous against all odds. Sarah Breedlove’s story is one such story.
Sarah’s parents and siblings were enslaved and she, being the sixth child born in 1867, was the first in her family to be born free. Orphaned at seven years of age, the possibilities in her life were bleak. By ten, she worked as a domestic and married at age fourteen. Within the next six years, she had a daughter and her husband died. By the end of the next six years, she remarried and divorced. She married Charles J. Walker in 1906, but that marriage also ended in divorce in 1912. What prospects could an uneducated single mother, widowed once, divorced twice have had in an age when women had not even achieved the right to vote besides the challenges of national racial barriers?
During the 1880s Sarah found work doing laundry for a dollar a day to support herself and her child. On top of her misfortune, she suffered painful hair loss due to poor nutrition and harsh lye soaps. Life dealt her an impossible hand, but sometimes the very thing that brings hardship is the trigger event for a turnaround.
Sarah’s brothers were barbers and had knowledge about hair conditions. She learned from her brothers and developed hair care treatments that not only restored her own hair condition, but helped others as well. She sold the products that she developed from door to door under her married name, Madam C. J. Walker. She trained other women and by 1917, 20,000 women were selling her products door to door. Sadly, she died at age 51 in 1919, but by then her estate was worth $600,000, considered a fortune in its day.
Retelling stories like Sarah’s make a difference for several reasons. It tells us that what seems impossible can change. New possibilities appear when vision seems cloudy. It dispels the “I can’t do anything to make my life better” excuses. When people find a way to triumph in a tight spot, it affirms the notion that ordinary people do extraordinary things when they persevere.
Stories of victory both simple and spectacular are begging to be heard in every venue possible—electronic media, film, person-to-person, and most definitely in church and community contexts. Telling of a healing let’s the one in pain know that God cares about suffering and desires people to be whole. A simple testimony of provision gives hope to someone facing lack. Good stories tap into powerful emotions that move people to action.
When I was in college, my friends and I had a regular study group. We frequently gathered at my house to prepare for tests or do assignments. I remember that during our snack breaks, my mom would regale my friends with stories of growing up in Europe and navigating her way through WWII as a teenager. Sometimes they were funny, other times heart wrenching, but they always ended in hope and triumphs great and small. Every time we met they begged her to tell them more.
Beyond pure entertainment, storytelling holds a powerful place in human drama. Through the influence of a compelling story, we can be emotionally moved to tears, laughter, or outrage. Coerced by strong stories, we cheer for the underdog, support a cause, or even take some scary risks that are normally rejected.
What are your stories? Take the time to tell them in whatever mode is available. You can always start by retelling the abundant supply God’s Word gives (We own them because we are God’s family). You just never know whom you will touch and inspire. If you think you have no stories to tell, pay closer attention to your life and notice the smaller daily victories. And then tell them to yourself in a journal. Tell them to your family, friends, and even strangers. Tell them to anyone who gives you an ear to hear. It will bless the teller and the hearer.
Copyright 2016 by Eva Benevento. All rights reserved.
