Life is a Storm by Nello Jennings

In this episode of Blank Page, I share a raw and honest conversation with Nello, whose powerful poem, Life is a Storm (available below and on the podcast), captures the resilience required to weather life’s fiercest challenges. Nello opens up about his personal experiences with violence and its deep impact on families, offering wisdom and hope for those navigating their own storms. His story is a profound reminder of why the work of the Columbus Violence Reduction Fund is so crucial in creating safer, stronger communities. Listen in as Nello’s journey inspires us to face life’s struggles with courage and find hope in the midst of pain.

Life’s a Storm

By Nello Jennings

Life—

Life’s a storm.

One minute, calm.

Then boom!—the next, 

You’re being knocked off course, 

Just trying to stay afloat.

I’ve been there.

More funerals,

Than weddings.

Life doesn’t just bruise you—

It tattoos you.

The pain,

Leaves a mark. 

Like fresh ink—

On dry skin.

I carry that pain with me—

My Uncle Dex, 

My Friends Terrence and Devonte. 

Their absences—

Are felt present, 

Every day.

That pain—

Doesn’t just disappear—

Or fade away. 

So, what do you do?

Do you let it weaken you—

Or do you let it strengthen you?

Cus once— 

You’ve weathered one storm.

You start learning,

How to face the next storm.

That pain, 

It shapes you.

It can make you stronger, 

Strong enough to stand tall.

And the truth— 

The truth is,

Pain teaches:

Pain teaches us, 

That storms,

Don’t last forever.

The Rain,

Will start to clear.

The Winds,

Begin to settle.

And eventually, 

The Sun breaks through.

Then—

Then you’re faced with a choice:

Do you stay stuck,

In the wreckage of your past?

Or do you grab the wheel of your destiny,

And steer towards a better future?

A future of change.

And change? 

It’s tough.

It’s like a butterfly—

A butterfly doesn’t wake up and fly.

It starts in a cocoon—

A place that’s uncomfortable,

But necessary.

That struggle,

Is part of the process.

And in the process of growth, 

You must shed the old you.

And like the cocoon, 

Community is there,

To hold us when times get hard.

It’s the support we need to break free,

In order to become who we’re meant to be.

You want to fly?

You’ve got to shed the skin of your past

Lean on community.

Change doesn’t have to start big.

Sometimes, it’s just small steps—

It might not seem like much—

Like a bus pass—

But that bus pass?

It’s a ticket—

A ticket to opportunity. 

A step forward.

And the more steps you take,

The more—

You’ll feel your wings,

Begin to unfold.

We’re not meant to,

Only survive—

We are meant to soar.

We are meant to be restored, 

We’re meant to rebuild, 

We are meant to rise from the ashes,

We are meant to spread our wings into a new existence—

An existence of—

Possibility and purpose.

Let’s defy the odds,

Of who we once thought we were,

And flourish in the belief of—

Who we can become.

Because the storm—

the storm has passed.

The skies are open.

And it’s time to,

Now—

Spread your wings, 

To fly.

Tell Better Stories

Growing up, I could never figure out what I wanted to be.

I could honestly imagine myself as a lawyer, bartender, gas station attendant, pilot, pastor, or something else entirely. With each job, there was something that intrigued me! I could imagine myself going to work every day to sell people gas and cigarettes. It would be fascinating! Whenever I watch a movie about a lawyer, I think, “I could do that.” In college, I planned to be a pilot until I found flying small planes made me want to throw up.

With time, I learned that what intrigued me about these positions had little to do with what I should do with my life and more to do with my love of stories. I’m fascinated with these professions like an author is fascinated by their characters’ lives. Even the most boring of characters—or the most evil—are deeply loved by their authors. If they aren’t, the character will fall flat. Good characters are loved with a courageous curiosity. Authors want to know what makes them get out of bed every day. What do they worry about? What are they most afraid of? Why do they do what they do? These questions are at the heart of great stories and I love great stories.

If the story is good, you’ll forget where you are, about the laundry you need to do, or that your feet are sticking to the floor of the theater.

Stories transport us.

Storytelling is one of the few human traits that is truly universal through all of culture and known history.

We had stories before we had IMAX theaters and novels.

We had stories before we had paper to write them down.

It’s what makes us human. Apes might have opposable thumbs and be able to use tools, but humans alone have the gift of storytelling.

We love comedians because they are actually some of the best storytellers out there.

We have an obsession with storytelling because, in all the changes we’ve seen in society, storytelling remains the most effective way to make sense of our world, cast a vision for new ideas, and provide comfort and distractions from the tediousness of life.

It’s because of this that telling better stories remains the most important thing you can do to improve your quality of life, connection with other humans, and effectiveness in nearly every corner of the job market.

Finding A Writing Community

I have the privilege of serving as the President of the Ohio Writers’ Association (OWA) since it transitioned from an LLC to a nonprofit. I’m not the best writer, by any stretch of the imagination, and I’ve only had a few fiction short stories published up to this point. That’s what I love about OWA. You don't have to be great to get involved. It’s more about what you will get out of it than what you’re expected to put into it. This community of writers continues to inspire and challenge me to be the best writer I can be.

Along with being a part of OWA, I serve as the pastor of Cityview Church. Most weeks, you’ll find me up front sharing a message. If I struggle to write as much fiction as I want, it’s because most weeks I’m writing 3000-4000 words in a sermon. When interacting with people outside the church, I’ll often say I spend a lot of time writing “creative nonfiction,” but that’s just my way of making sermons sound cooler than they are.

Whether as a writer, public speaker, or leader, I find knowing how to share stories is essential. This is true for a manager of staff or serving as a board member; every part of life and leadership requires stories, because stories are our primary way of connecting, relating, and making sense of our world.

In business and organizations, you might have a mission statement, but it’s stories that help people see what your mission looks like with clothes on. Whether it’s fundraising, volunteer recruitment, asking for help, or anything else, being able to craft a simple story that draws people in makes the difference between connecting with a potential audience and not.

Most of what I’m sharing here I’ve learned from other people, whether it be professional writers or peers offering advice in a monthly critique. I doubt I’ll be offering anything original, but I think the following tips and tricks represent some of the best practices I’ve learned for storytelling. For some, this might be brand new, and for many others, I hope this will be a helpful reminder.

While I use these principles for both writing, speaking, and leadership—whether I’m writing science fiction, preaching, or casting vision—it’s possible some tips might lend themselves to one form more than the other. Wherever you use storytelling, here are eight tips I’ve picked up that have helped me tell better stories…

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You can continue reading on my eBook Tell Better Stories, a free gift to anyone who subscribes to my email list.