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"Story of My Life" is a song recorded by English-Irish boy band One Direction. It was released on 28 October by Syco Music and Columbia Records as the Released: 28 October
Table of contents
- 6 F*cked Up Stories From My Life That Prove Change is Possible for Anyone
- My Story – When Life
- How Breathwork Can Help You Find Treasure
Learn the basics of what Christians believe. Dealing with Life's Questions Explore answers to life's biggest questions.
Read about individuals who have been transformed by faith. Spiritual Growth Take the next step in your faith journey with devotionals, resources and core truths. Bible Studies Find resources for personal or group Bible study. Share the Gospel Sharing your faith is one of our most important callings as followers of Jesus. Help Others Grow Help others in their faith journey through discipleship and mentoring. Leadership Training Develop your leadership skills and learn how to launch a ministry wherever you are. Language Resources View our top Cru resources in more than 20 languages.
Campus Helping students know Jesus, grow in their faith and go to the world to tell others. City Connecting in community for the well-being of the city. Inner City Partnering with urban churches to meet physical and spiritual needs. Athletes Engaging around sports to help athletes think and live biblically. Families Equipping families with practical approaches to parenting and marriage. High School Reaching students and faculty in middle and high school.
Military Bringing hope and resources to military families worldwide. Locate Cru Near You. Explore Your Interests Use your hobbies and interests to find the best place for you to serve. Mission Trips Partner with Cru on a short-term missions trip.
Internships Internship opportunities with Cru's ministries. Careers Latest job openings at Cru. Go International Live in another country building relationships and ministries with eternal impact. Volunteer Opportunities Would you like to give your time to work with Cru? We need you. Events Find a Cru event near you. What We Do How we seek to journey together with everyone towards a relationship with Jesus.
6 F*cked Up Stories From My Life That Prove Change is Possible for Anyone
Statement of Faith What we believe about the gospel and our call to serve every nation. What had I to do with this momentous first step? In the language of the lawyer, I was not even a party of the second part. Two generations back is not so very far away; the reader will not need to try to consider all the near-accidents since Adam, but I will illustrate the whole venture by one narrow escape I had seventy-five years before I was born.
It seems that my grandfathers from both sides came from Connecticut. They had never met in the East, and did not come at the same time. Both of them drove from New England, for there were no railroads in that day, much less automobiles. The journey was long, and more or less disagreeable. My father's parents came first, but, for some reason, stopped at the little town of Henrietta, near Rochester, N. Why they stopped there, I cannot imagine. I was there once myself, but I did not stop.
When I visualize the paternal grandfather Darrow driving off on a thousand-mile trip into a near-wilderness I can hardly refrain from shouting to tell him that he has left Grandfather Eddy behind. But later on my grandfather on my mother's side drove away into the unknown West as if in search of a mate for one of his unborn daughters, so that I could have a couple of parents after many years. He drove and drove for weeks and months into the West until he pitched his tent in the wilds that later were named Windsor, Ohio.
No doubt they drove through Henrietta, for that was along the main road into the West, but they did not stop, even long enough to meet my future mother's parent. Some years later my father's father drove from Henrietta to western Ohio and stopped at the little hamlet of Kinsman, twenty-five miles from Windsor, the town where my mother was waiting to be born.
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Thus far, my chance for getting into the scheme was about zero. It was necessary for the boy and girl to meet before they could become my father and mother, and this chance seemed less than one in a million when the families lived in Connecticut. Both grandfathers were poor and obscure, else they would have stayed where they were. But their children, as they grew up, were sent to school. About thirty-five miles from Windsor and sixty from Kinsman, was a little town called Amboy, in northern Ohio, near Oberlin.
In Amboy was a well-known school. Emily Eddy and Amirus Darrow were destined to go to that school, and so they went. I can leave the rest to the reader's imagination. When I think of the chances that I was up against, even when so near the goal, it scares me to realize how easily I might have missed out. Of all the infinite accidents of fate farther back of that, I do not care or dare to think.
My Story – When Life
It is obvious that I had nothing to do with getting born. Had I known about life in advance and been given any choice in the matter, I most likely would have declined the adventure. At least, that is the way I think about it now. There are times when I feel otherwise, but on the whole I believe that life is not worth while. This does not mean that I am gloomy, or that this book will sadden the Tired Business Man, for I shall write only when I have the inclination to do so, and at such times I am generally almost unmindful of existence.
But as I write these words the sun is shining, the birds are making merry in the bright summer day, and I am asking why I sit and plague my brain to recall the dead and misty past while light and warmth and color are urging me to go outdoors and play. Doubtless a certain vanity has its part in moving me to write about myself. I am quite sure that this is true, even though I am aware that neither I nor any one else has the slightest importance in time and space.
I know that the earth where I have spent my life is only a speck of mud floating in the endless sky. I am quite sure that there are millions of other worlds in the universe whose size and importance are most likely greater than the tiny graveyard on which I ride. I know that at this time there are nearly two billion other human entities madly holding fast to this ball of dirt to which I cling. I know that since I began this page hundreds of these have loosened their grip and sunk to eternal sleep. I know that for half a million years men and women have lived and died and been mingled with the elements that combine to make our earth, and are known no more.
I know that only the smallest fraction of my fellow castaways have even so much as heard my name, and that those who have will soon be a part of trees and plants and animal and clay. Still, here am I sitting down, with the mists already gathering about my head, to write about the people, desires, disappointments and despairs that have moved me in my brief stay on what we are pleased to call this earth.
Doubtless, too, the emotion to live makes most of us seek to project our personality a short distance beyond the waiting grave. But whatever the reason may be, I am doing what many, many men have done before, and will do again--talking and gossiping about the past.
I am doing this as a boy plays baseball by the hour or dances through the night. I am doing it because all living things crave activity, and I am still alive. Whether the movement is a journey around the globe or an unsteady walk from the bedroom to the dining room and back, it is but a response to what is left of the emotions, appetites and energies that we call being. The young man's reflections of unfolding life concern the future--the great, broad, tempestuous sea on whose hither shore he stands eagerly waiting to learn of other lands and climes. The reactions and recollections of the old concern the stormy journey drawing to a close; he no longer builds castles or plans conquests of the unknown; he recalls the tempests and tumults encountered on the way, and babbles of the passengers and crew that one by one dropped silently into the icy depths.
No longer does the aging transient yearn for new adventures or unexplored highways. His greatest ambition is to find some snug harbor where he can doze and dream the fleeting days away. So, elderly men who speak or write turn to autobiography. This is all they have to tell, and they cannot sit idly in silence and wait for the night to come.
Autobiography is never entirely true. No one can get the right perspective on himself. Every fact is colored by imagination and dream.
How Breathwork Can Help You Find Treasure
The young look forth across the sea to a mirage of fairylands filled with hidden treasures; the aged turn to the fading past, and through the mist and haze that veils once familiar scenes, bygone events assume weird and fanciful proportions. Almost forgotten men, women and children reappear along the far-off shore, and their shadows are reflected back in dimmed or magnified outlines in the softly setting sun. Then, too, all human egos, and perhaps other egos, place prime importance upon themselves; each is the centre of the great circle around which all else revolves; no one can see and feel in any other way.