Can you pinpoint a moment in your life when everything changed?
You wouldn’t have recognized it at the time. But a seemingly random, minor event diverted your life or maybe your happiness, forever.
One decision: Where are my papers? If I run, can I catch that train? Why won’t my watch work?
And the course of your life spins away.
Some people call it the changepoint.
A commercial from my childhood
I can’t find the classic watch commercial in which a man is walking down a crowded street while the narrator describes his promising future.
“Today you’ll meet the woman of your dreams. She’ll sweep you off your feet.
“You’ll marry and have three adorable children. Your career will succeed because you know she’s behind you and encouraging you.
You’ll live to a ripe old age with peace and financial security. The entire world of happiness awaits!”
The man’s smile increases and he wonders when it will happen. He glances at his watch.
It stopped ticking. So amid all those New Yorkers pushing their way up and down the sidewalk, he looks down to wind his watch.
She walks by and his glorious future evaporates.
One small decision. His future life walked on by.
Sliding Doors
I love the premise of the movie Sliding Doors.
A woman leaves work early and then the movie splits and we watch how her life differs because she either runs to catch the subway, or she waits for the next train.
Fascinating premise. (This movie, sad to say, isn’t very good).
One meaningless decision made in a mindless flash and the future is never the same.
My life
For me the decision didn’t seem significant–it only swallowed five years of my life–but was equally simple.
“Here are your grandmother’s papers. I figured you were the best person to keep them and possibly the only one to want them.”
My mother carried a bag’s worth of information out of her mother-in-law’s house when they cleared it out.
I loved reading through the innumerable cards, including ones I’d designed as a child, photos and letters.
Reading her handwriting, I spent time with my aging grandmother who lived far away and no longer behaved like her capable self.
At the bottom of the bag, I found gold. Grammy sat down one day with a brand new yellow legal pad and on the top left corner began to write the story of her life in precise, clear handwriting.
She continued, front and back of each page, all the way to the final page on the tablet. That’s where she ended her story.
Turning the pages, amazed, I saw no words crossed out, no misspellings, no errors. I, who cannot write a note without one correction, was impressed. She’d written a masterpiece.
Written, that is. The story itself needed massaging.
And that’s what I did for the next year. I wrote my grandmother’s biography.
One thing lead to another
But those papers didn’t swallow just that year. As a journalist, I needed to do a full job: interview relatives, travel to her birthplace, collect pictures, read history against her life.
The investigation took me to Utah, where my great-aunt said, “There’s no point in coming all this way, Michelle, if you don’t watch the movie about our family coming across the continent in Salt Lake City.”
While waiting for the movie to start, I visited the computerized family history center and wondered about my grandfather’s ancestors.
That’s the story that swallowed five years of my life.
Can you pin point a moment in your life when a seemingly small decision changed everything? Perhaps the day you met a spouse, discovered a calling, found the Lord?
What choice spun your life down a different road?
Thoughts? Reactions? Lurker?