Only a Shadow

Every story has a beginning. Every relationship starts with a moment and a meeting. Though an untold number of encounters occur in a lifetime, seldom do any of us know their impact in passing. Swept up in the business of living, enticed and mesmerized by the sirens of the world tempting us to ego, scandal, and pleasure, it’s easy not to notice the potential of a single point in time and all the golden magic that it can hold. The world spins on, gracing every human on the planet with its offerings, and so few we embrace.
But there are specific scenes that stick with a person – the firsts and lasts, the glorious triumphs, crushing losses, or the endings and beginnings that punctuate every life. This story starts with one of those snapshots–a single frame captured on the fly with a glance out the driver’s side window of my family’s Aerostar van on an Indian summer day in early October. I’ve just pulled to the curb in front my house in Lakeview Oregon after a quick trip to Safeway on my lunch hour. I’m on a mission. Groceries are melting in the back seat. The sixth period bell at the school is about to ring. Things aren’t set up for the next class.
But I turn my head, and my eyes fall on a small blonde boy and a woman who looks just like him. They are sitting side by side in child-size chairs by a small wooden table on the sidewalk in front of their house across the street. There’s a pitcher and a stack of paper cups on the table which has a homemade sign taped to its side. They’re selling lemonade.
Sometimes it seems as if I’ve floated through life like a leaf on a stream – the days washing over only to slip away as I bobble with a current that impels me where it wants me to go. So many decisions are made on a whim, without serious reflection or reasoned thought. Should I run to the store now or wait till after the game. Is there time to listen to my neighbor recount the details of her recent car accident, or would it be better to mop the kitchen floor before dinner. Should I stop to chat with a friend downtown or get back to school and get some work finished. Too often selfish motives prevail. Too often the current moves me along the path of least resistance.
How seldom I consider the ramifications of my flippant choices, the good, the bad, the so-called “sins” of commission or omission, or the mysterious way they might play out during my brief sojourn on this horizontal plane and beyond into eternity. A pat on the back, a kind or hurtful word or gesture, or even sacrificing a few minutes to listen might ripple through time, infinitely affecting legions of people known and unknown, born and unborn. Was that specific scene at that specific time of day something that was meant for me to see? Could the impulse to park in a different spot have changed everything? Is it possible that something as simple as taking the time to buy a cool drink at a child’s stand, or raising an arm to offer a friendly wave might carry weight that echoes through eternity?