Ever’s maternal grandmother “Mimi” was beloved among her many grandchildren for her imagination. By day she was a no-nonsense doctor, but by night she was a storyteller extraordinaire, weaving astonishing tales of heroic feats in exotic lands.
 
Her stories were usually about a young Turkish boy named Ahmen, whose life around Constantinople was constant adventure and who would often stow away on a ship and continue his capers in foreign lands. He had mishaps. He saved a shipmate from drowning. He dug up treasures.
 
Mimi’s father left the family when she was a young girl, and her mother struggled to raise her and her brother, but somehow she went on to become the “Princess of Progress” at the 1933 Chicago World’s Fair, winning a trip around the world. She then married a Merchant Marine Captain she met in Singapore.

The Captain was twenty years older and full of stories about his experiences of all the world’s main events of the 20th century – the Russian Revolution, world wars, real-life mafia drama – many of which he witnessed firsthand in ports around the world. All to say that when she added in her own material, Mimi had a lot of material to work with for Ahmen’s adventures.
 
When Ever and her siblings got to spend an evening with Mimi, they couldn’t wait to find out what would happen next to Ahmen. A room full of kids hanging on her every word, she made great use of the opportunity to fire their imaginations and strengthen their resolve to do their own share of heroic deeds.  
 
The other night got us thinking again about Mimi and Ahmen. It was just a day or two into Lent. After dinner, our two youngest were begging for additional screen time, and we felt the powerful tug to open up the tech-control app and soften the limits. The easy “outsourcing” path of online entertainment stood in sharp contrast to the harder “hands-on” path that Mimi exemplified.
 
So, we started to tell a few stories of our own—about travels, studies, our courtship, and about renovating our first home in Washington, DC. Were the kids rapt in wonder? Could you hear a pin drop as we unspooled one gripping story after another? No. We can’t hold a candle to Mimi. But we tried, and our kids were appreciative.  
 
We get it. On top of everything (no need to repeat the list of crises we are all experiencing), we now find ourselves in Lent. And instead of embracing Lenten disciplines, we’re tempted to say we deserve a break. “Couples are going through an astonishing level of stress right now,” the Washington Post reported last week. A “time-use researcher” added, “Even before the pandemic…Americans watched a lot of TV. We probably watch significantly more now.”
 
In the fourth week of the month, we turn our focus to Family Culture, the 4^th level of a Trinity House. It may seem herculean now—in Lent, in a pandemic that already gives life a feeling of self-denial—to pursue the craft of storytelling, but what a great pared-down and healthier way to entertain our families!
 
Instead of our day-to-day family culture being defined by the after-dinner “vanishing act” (each to his or her own screen!), why not take time to tell more stories? Instead of spending down parental authority by limiting media (and not providing an alternative), why not go head-to-head with the Hollywood Storytelling Complex, and try beating it at its own game?
 
Mimi did it, and so can we. And if that isn’t enough inspiration, we can even turn to Jesus! By some counts, nearly 40 percent of His teaching was delivered through parables, defined by one scholar as follows: “At its simplest, a parable is a metaphor or simile drawn from nature or common life, arresting the hearer by its vividness or strangeness, and leaving the mind in sufficient doubt about its precise application to tease it into active thought.”
 
All the ingredients that made Ahmen so unforgettable are right there: common life, vividness, doubt about his next steps, and that lean-forward-in-your-seat urge to tease out the meaning for our own lives. Ahmen was a parable—his courage, faith, and generosity arrested Ever and her siblings, held them in suspense, and teased them into active thought.
 
“The Good Samaritan isn’t just a parable,” Pope Francis said. “It’s a way of life.” And that’s what Mimi and every good storyteller knows. Ahmen and all the stories we tell our children can bring us together to consider an entire way of life. So gather around in your living room soon, find your family’s Ahmen, and inspire your kids to consider the deep truths about life from another horizon!