Early in her career, my mother faced a frightening setback.

She and my father were a few years out of college and living in Ohio. Dad quit his job to attend graduate school. Mom landed a teaching position in a town that was an easy commute to main campus.

Her sorority sister, who worked in the district, got her the job interview. My mother’s solid references and outgoing personality landed the offer.

Assuming the job was a done deal, my parents packed up and headed east.

But there was one last hurdle to clear. The school board needed to sign off on her appointment.

A mere formality, the superintendent assured her. The board voted while my parents were en route.

But when they pulled up to their new home, Mom’s friend was waiting for her. Mom took one look at Millie’s face and knew something was very, very wrong.

The school board had voted to give the position – her position – to the other candidate, who was a local.

She and my father suddenly found themselves without a source of income.

My mother shared this story offhandedly one afternoon when she and I were on a road trip to visit our alma mater. I was in my mid-twenties and had never heard the story before.

Why hadn’t I  ever heard the story before?

I hadn't heard it because,  to Mom, it was a closed chapter in her life. Something to talk about to pass the time on a boring car ride.

The event no longer felt consequential to her.

The chagrined superintendent used his contacts to find her a position in a nearby district. My father completed his graduate degree as planned. They had two children, bought a house, taught for decades, saved enough to take a sabbatical to travel, and retire comfortably near the beach.

That earthshaking night so long ago eventually turned into an unmemorable bump in her life.

As for me, the story didn't make much of an impression. I was too young to understand the profoundness of the tale she told me.  

But now, I have age and experience under my belt. I, too, lost a job once. I know the dizzying experience of being employed one minute and without income the next.

After all these years, I understand what her story offered me.

It offered hope that I’d eventually figure it out, just as she did.

It offered reassurance that I, too, would pick up and move forward. And I'd gain self-knowledge, skills, and savvy that would lead me toward future success. 

I would figure out how to take care of myself when I needed to.

Most of all, she showed that life’s devastating experiences eventually disappear in our rearview mirrors.

Storytelling is the essential human activity. The harder the situation, the more essential it is. ~ Tim O’Brien, novelist

Grief researcher Pauline Boss wrote that resilience, like trauma, is passed down through generations. We learn from our elders how to bounce back from hard experiences.

Our elders’ stories are tales of their resilience. Family parables full of precious gems.

So, listen intentionally to what they have to say.

Don’t let them stop with a simple re-telling of the who-what- when- where- why.

Ask questions to get the whole story of their hero’s journey.

How did they pick themselves up? How long did it take?

Who showed up for them? Who were the helpers, including the ones who surprised them? And the strangers who arrived just in the nick of time.

What went right? Life is full of good and bad luck. The hero’s journey usually starts with the bad. But there are always nuggets of good luck along the way.

What did they do right? How did they conquer adversity with their personal resourcefulness, skills, or knowledge?

When did they realize they’d be okay? Most heroes’ journeys have a pivotal event when they realize “I’ve got this.”

How did life change? The last chapter of the hero's journey is a "return home" to equilibrium. But that doesn’t mean “back to normal.” How was life different after the dust settled?

What treasures were unearthed? In the end, life’s challenges often turn up gifts. New friendships. Unimagined opportunities. New mastery of skills.

This packrat has learned that what the next generation will value most is not what we owned, but the evidence of who we were and the tales of how we loved. In the end, it’s the family stories that are worth the storage. ~ Ellen Goodman, columnist

Life’s inevitably challenging. We can count on it.

But we also can count on the fact that we’re surrounded by help. Fellow humans. Moments that break in our favor. Our own inner strength.

Your elders’ stories can remind you that you’re going to be okay. They’re proof that you, too, will get through.

Your stories, in turn, will encourage the generation that follows yours. So tell your own stories and make them inspiring.

Family stories are part of family legacy. They're worth a price above rubies.