scenes from a local Wal-Mart

photos from picturesofwalls.com

 

It seems that many of the pivotal moments in my life are actually seemingly small moments where a realization is had and/or a decision is made. It’s amazing how much of life is lived in the subtleties.

There have been compounded tiny moments and decisions that have impacted my views and responses to time management. Or, it may simply be that, while I’m fond of being responsible and respectful when it comes to managing my time, there are a great many moments when I don’t really have anything pressing and rather than trying to dash from one place to the next, or getting frustrated when it seems people are making a demand of my time that I hadn’t counted on, it’s better to just relax into it and let it happen. I’ll admit I occasionally have need of remembering this approach. But, more often than not, it’s the default take.

Last Wednesday I’d been properly motivated to be up, out and at the post office not long after they had opened the doors. I took care of a few other things and made my way home. Later that morning, I decided procuring a yoga mat  (and maybe a yoga block or two) would be a good idea. A lack of sleep combined with a lack of caffeine had hit my system and so I spent some time debating the value in possibly procuring coffee before procuring the yoga mat. This debate did nothing to progress the situation any and I eventually headed out (across the street) to Wal-Mart in search of the aforementioned mat while I worked on deciding if I was more in the mood for tea than coffee or if something else all full of the caffeine goodness would do.

The mat was found in all its glory as the lone pink mat in a sea of blue and purple. The blocks remained elusive, however. So, I made my purchase and headed out the door. As I was depositing my cart, putting on my sunglasses and digging my keys out of my purse, the sweet greeter struck up a conversation with me. I stifled a yawn (because I was sleepy, not because she bored me) as the word "nap" flashed across my mind and smiled and reciprocated the conversation. I didn’t have anywhere I had to be. And even though I may not have been at my most talkative or at the peak of my responsiveness, I spent a few minutes as a diversion and walked away with a smile for it.

I find it sad that we all too often view our lives as small. In reality, the vast majority of us aren’t likely to address masses or hold high level positions of influence, impact or authority. But it doesn’t mean that you don’t make a difference. And while we’ve all had those major, life-altering, undeniably huge watershed moments, how many more times has your day, and your life, been changed, impacted, made better by a seemingly small and fleeting moment or act of kindness? These things are not insignificant. You are not insignificant. We are not insignificant.

It’s too easy to turn inward and feel like your presence doesn’t make an impact. Or at least not an impact of any monumental importance. It’s too easy to stall out somewhere and think that this is all there is, just because it’s been the scenery you’ve recently grown accustomed to. But just because it’s easy, doesn’t mean it’s true. You do have an impact, daily, on people you know and don’t know alike. There is significance in that. Some of the smallest acts, and many times from a complete stranger, have turned into those major, life-altering, undeniably huge watershed moments for people. Which isn’t to put pressure on anyone to preform. It’s more about embracing your life.

In reality, it’s also easy to view life from the flip side of that inward, self-involved, often self-abusive position. For all of the devastation, deprivation and general awfulness, there is a beauty and life and light that excessively counters it. Life is good and beautiful and great. There is always hope. And if you refuse to stagnate and stall out, it will only get better. It has no other choice.

The other afternoon I’d headed into Wal-Mart to take care of something that didn’t require me to go through a checkout line. Except, as I was leaving, I decided to indulge a recent craving for Dr. Pepper. Since my current aversion to sugar is greater than my aversion to consuming large quantities of aspartame (I’ve long since refused to chew anything other than sugarless gum on the occasions I do chew gum – so aspartame has been in the mix for some time, even if I’m not its biggest fan), I went with the diet stuff. I perused the cold cases near the checkout lines and found what I was looking for. I got in an "express" line. The "express" factor can often seem imperceptible, especially if it’s busy. And afternoons tend to be busy.

Not long after getting in line, a father and his son get in line behind me. Since I didn’t turn around, I just saw the son as he attempted to entertain himself for the duration of our wait. He looked to be about 7 or 8 years old. He was asking kid-like questions and his father was doing a decent job of humoring him. As we moved closer to the register, the kid suddenly says, "I could do that." I figure out, as his father is attempting to clarify what "that" is, that this "that" happens to be working the register. The father takes the briefest of pauses and responds with, "I’m sure you could. Whatever it is you wind up doing, I just want you to be happy doing it. That’s the important part." And with another brief pause, he stops and asks his son, "Do you know what it is that you’d like to do?"

What followed was one of the sweetest exchanges between a parent and child that I’ve ever had the privilege of witnessing. This man wasn’t just parenting on purpose, but he was doing it with the gifts and natural bents of his son in mind. He was taking this moment, this moment that could’ve been passing in frustration and annoyance at having to stand in such a long line after a full day, and he was tuning into his child and taking the time to impart something to him. He was making one of those small moments, the ones we either overlook or take for granted, count. He was giving it weight and impact, even as it was flying by.

I don’t think I’ve been so glad to have had a Dr. Pepper craving. Or to be stuck in a line at Wal-Mart.

A complete stranger made my day simply by living his life in line at Wal-Mart. He also gave me a moment that will last a lifetime. And he wasn’t even trying.

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Your life isn’t small.