Moments

I was a quiet child when I was young. There were eight kids in my family. I am not sure if I was necessarily shy as much as I was merely content with being an inconspicuous part of the chaos that was family life. Regardless of the reason, I was very quiet and reserved.

When I was 8 years old, our family was in a car accident. We were side-swiped by a drunk driver that was driving a green car with a white top. I know this because I remember my sisters getting out of the car and yelling, "It's a green car with a white top!!" I also remember driving around town looking for cars that fit that description.

Well, this car haunted me for a long time after that accident. I was terrified to be in my room alone. If I had to put away clothes, toys, or anything in my room, I would run down the hall, chuck it into my room, and run back to the main part of the house as fast as I could.

One night, my dad sat me down and asked me why I was so scared. Being that young, putting words to those fears was nigh impossible. "Are you afraid that the green car with the white top was going to come chasing you down the hall and run you over?"

This may seem like an insignificant moment in time, but this approach made all the difference to me and I believe it was one of the most impactful moments of my childhood. From that point on I not only overcame the fear of the attacking green car with the white top, but my personality changed. I was no longer quiet and happy to merely live life in the background. I began to take a more active role in our family.  Humor became a major part of my life, a strategy for dealing with stress and a huge part of who I am today.

Now I am a parent of five children. I do many things for my children that I hope shape who they are. I teach them to be clean, to be kind and respectful, to work hard, to do their best. I encourage them to be active in school, church and life in general. All of these things are important.

But do I take moments, seemingly insignificant moments, that can have a lasting impact on who my children will become? I am sure that my dad didn't anticipate that his use of humor in helping me deal my fear would have such a lasting impact on me. But it did. And they do.

Lesson learned?

There are no insignificant moments.