How Do You Tell Your Story?

How Do You Tell Your Story?

A reflection on belief, becoming, and belonging

On January 11, 2026, I attended a service at the Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Corvallis, where Rev. Alex McGee offered a sermon titled “How Do You Tell Your Story?” What Rev. McGee shared this morning didn’t just land intellectually—it echoed through multiple layers of my own life, work and being, as if different threads I’ve been holding were suddenly braided together.

Early in the sermon, Rev. McGee offered a simple but profound posture toward life:
“This is how things are. I wonder what will happen next.”
Curiosity—not certainty—was named as a spiritual practice.

She spoke about the way we tell the story of our lives: our spiritual autobiographies. Like any good story, our lives include characters, settings, conflict, and resolution. And like all meaningful stories, they hold tension—between despair and hope, separateness and togetherness, chaos and order.

As I listened, I couldn’t help but notice how deeply these themes mirrored the foundation of The Birds and the Bs, the interfaith folktale series I’ve been writing—stories centered on Belief, Becoming, and Belonging.

Belief: From Despair to Hope

In the story Believe: Badger and the Banyan Tree, Badger struggles with doubt—mocked by others and unsure of his place. In his search for answers, he looks outward, only to be gently guided inward. Banyan invites him to listen for the Inner Light, a concept deeply rooted in both Quaker spirituality and early Christianity—the divine presence not above us, but within us.

Rev. McGee spoke of belief not as rigid doctrine, but as a movement from despair toward hope. Belief becomes the quiet courage to trust that our story is still unfolding, even when we cannot yet see the next chapter.

Becoming: From Chaos to Flow

Another Birds and the Bs story, Become: Butterfly and the Bacteria, explores transformation through loss and surrender. Butterfly’s becoming isn’t driven by force or control, but by cooperation with life’s natural rhythms—a reflection of Wu wei in Taoism: effortless action, going with the flow.

Rev. McGee reminded us that our lives are made up of stages and chapters. Adolescence asks, Who am I apart from my family? Adulthood wonders, How do I stay true to myself while remaining connected? Becoming, then, is not about fixing chaos, but learning how to move with it—breathing, believing, and being.

Belonging: From Separateness to Togetherness

Belonging, perhaps the most tender of the three, asks: Who am I connected to that is bigger than me? Rev. McGee named the tension we all carry between separateness and togetherness. I was reminded of the South African concept of Ubuntu: I am because we are.

Belonging isn’t about losing oneself—it’s about discovering ourselves within a larger story. One we help write together.

Writing Our Lives as Living Stories

Throughout the sermon, Rev. McGee returned to the idea that our lives are not static biographies, but living narratives. We gain strength not by hiding our stories, but by sharing them. By honoring conflict—whether man vs. self, man vs. nature, or man vs. God—as part of the journey rather than proof of failure.

The way things are is not how they will always be.
The seasons change. We change. Stories change.

Is there ever an ending? I don’t think so.
And I don’t believe everything happens for a reason.
Things happen—and we find reason to become again.

Perhaps the invitation, as Rev. McGee offered, is to approach our lives with curiosity rather than fear. To imagine possible endings not as conclusions, but as openings. To tell our stories honestly, knowing that belief, becoming, and belonging are not destinations—but ongoing movements of the spirit.

This is how things are.
I wonder what will happen next.