The power of a spark

These days it seems like everybody is looking for a sign, for some reassurance that they are on the right path. We look for signs to tell us whether we should stay the course or head in a new direction. We look for signs in nature, in religion, in potato chips shaped like the faces of famous people. And while the fact that a misshapen potato chip resembling Jay Leno sold for $2000 on eBay may be surprising, our fascination with signs is anything but. Since the beginning of time, people have been searching for signs, and it makes perfect sense. It’s natural to want to know where you’re headed, to have some means of navigation on a long journey.

On the crazy, unpredictable, beautiful journey that is life, there are few things more miraculous than a sign. After all, the purpose of a sign is to capture our attention, to point us to something else. A miracle does the same thing. It is something so unusual, so out of the ordinary, that it makes us pause in awe. Whether they confirm our beliefs or make us rethink what we thought to be true, miracles grab our attention. For this reason, I've always thought of miracles simply as incredible signs, the kind with neon colors and flashing lights, the kind you just can’t miss because they blind you with their brilliance.

In this new season of life, I've been desperately searching for one of those incredible signs. I want a sign that I’m on the right path, that I am where I am supposed to be. I guess you could say that I've been a mad explorer searching for a flashing neon miracle. And if I've learned anything about the mad explorer life, it’s all about going to uncharted territory (unless you’re Christopher Columbus, in which case you can steal someone else’s territory, leave them with disease, and have a day named in your honor.) 

In my case, the uncharted territory of choice was Aldi on new shipment day. For those who haven’t experienced the world of Aldi on this momentous day, allow me to enlighten you. Dozens of overly zealous grocery store shoppers pay a quarter for a shopping cart and line the aisles in hopes of getting the best deals on new produce. You really haven’t lived until you've seen two middle-aged women fighting over the last ripe bunch of bananas. Weeping, gnashing of teeth, insults hurled in a variety of languages. Aldi on shipment day is the grocery store version of Maury.

Aside from an almost fist fight in the produce section, my shopping experience was uneventful. I grabbed a few things, made my way to the checkout, and exited the store before the bloodshed ensued. Just as I was putting my 25-cent shopping cart away and feeling disappointed about the lack of flashing neon miracles, a man approached me. “I’ll take your cart,” he said, extending a quarter in my direction. “Here’s for your trouble.”

“No, no,” I told him.  “It’s fine. Keep the quarter.” “Really?” he said. “Are you sure?” I passed the cart to him. “I’m sure. Have a great day.” He looked at me and smiled. A genuine smile tinged with wonder. “You too,” he said. “Thank you so much.”

After my encounter with the stranger, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. It’s funny how sometimes the smallest things can bring a change in perspective. As I walked to my car, I wondered many small sparks of light I had I missed while looking for my flashing neon miracle. How many opportunities had I overlooked? Opportunities to offer a simple gesture— a smile, a hug, a shopping cart on a cold November day. None of those things, in isolation, seem particularly noteworthy. They’re certainly not huge, God-appeared-in-a-thunderbolt miracle material. But each small spark has the ability to ignite something bigger. For me, it was the reminder that direction doesn't always come from a flashing neon miracle. Sometimes all we need is a spark.