When
I opened the door to the studio at SMCC for the first time, I had no way of
knowing that my life was about to change….dramatically. I was as
unprepared as Dorothy Gale when she opened the door from her wind-tossed house
in the drab landscape of Kansas.
As I listened to a master storyteller spin
his tale, I felt I had stepped out of the sepia-colored world of Kansas and
into the Technicolor world of OZ.
Faculty members introduced themselves and
made me feel welcome. During breaks, they asked how I was enjoying the event.
They invited me to join them in the Storytelling Institute at South Mountain.
I was so touched. I thought “They see something special in me!”
Later, I discovered that they treated everyone that way. Though this brought a
twinge of sadness, I eagerly decided to join them and thought, “Well, I’ll work
hard and make myself special!”
Thus, I began my journey through the
magical land of South Mountain Community College Storytelling Institute.
The yellow brick road of SMCC Storytelling
Institute led me through a maze of myths, and a labyrinth of learning. Along my
way, I gained a wealth of wisdom and knowledge, a mountain of experiences, and
a fresh fountain of friends–friends I will keep forever.
Woven through everything I
experienced was the golden thread of story.
My journey through SMCC
Storytelling Institute has taken many twists and turns. Sometimes, dark forces
blocked my path telling me “none shall pass.” Most notably was the wicked witch
of my own self-doubt. I’m sure it was God who sent me wise helpers who
illuminated my path. They wove their magic, educating and encouraging me as
they shared their talents and helped me fight my way through. Sandy, Kathy,
Harriet, Anne, Sarah, Vaunee Ann and her 6th grade class, Peggy, Marilyn, Mark,
Janna, and Pauline. And all who I didn’t mention, please know I appreciate you
too. Thank you! And . . . Liz. Liz is the Good Witch who cast her
spell over me. She inspired and guided me as she imparted to me the magical
gifts of confidence and belief in myself. Most of all, my husband, Bob
who tirelessly supported me, encouraged me, and listened to me cry and rejoice.
He cooked many meals and kept my car running over the past two years. He
loved me when I was unlovable. He is my heaven-sent rock.
Many obstacles have loomed in my
way, but with my magical helpers and friendly sentinels, stationed
strategically, the path now lies behind me and today I am stronger, wiser, more
capable and confident. I am at the end of the yellow brick road and my
God-ordained journey, and I am rejoicing in the wondrous knowledge that
I—am–a–storyteller!
And . . . when my blonde,
blue-eyed granddaughter climbs into my lap and asks, “Grandma, do you have a
story . . . in your HEAD?”
I do!
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