They say that life comes down to a few great moments. Often the key points of our lives pass by with stealth, leaving us to chase at shadows.
We are left to question and evaluate the ebb and flow, the surges and phases of our existence. The times we felt lost. Times of love, sorrow, rebirth and injury. Events that made time stand on end. Events that made a minute seem like an hour and an hour seem like a week.
There are moments which impact us directly, voyeuristic moments we observe while they are acted out by others, and moments which we only deem as significant years after the fact.
Time flows like a river and we cannot hold off its effects for very long. Christ said, "What is your life? It is but vapor, which appears and then disappears suddenly," and "store your treasure in heaven."
In ancient times, Plato wrote, "An unexamined life is not worth living." I sometimes reflect upon the moments of my life that have come together brick by brick to shape the pyramid of my character.
One of the most prominent centers around a semi-crippled girl in my second grade class named Laura Jakes. Laura couldn't control her bladder. Every week or so, she'd urinate all over herself in front of everyone – helpless and blameless like a baby. Sometimes I remember wiping up her urine with brown paper towels while the other kids laughed and chanted, "Anthony and Laura sittin' in a tree." I often wonder if that was my very best moment.
Other moments are more fleeting. The good ones are like the shade of a giant oak tree on a scorching summer day. The bad ones hot and bitter like a dry prairie wind.
Just yesterday, an 11-year-old boy stood on the pitching mound during a Little League championship game. Bases loaded, two outs, his team leading 3-2. He strikes the hitter out to preserve the win, his teammates then swarm and mob him on the mound in a wild celebration.
In the midst of that ecstasy, I remember thinking, "There will be lots of days like this." But through...