A Particle of God

One day, after several hours of driving, I turned into a large parking lot to rest under some large trees that had tempted me from the highway. While sitting there, a friendly guy approached, and asked if he could wash my windshield for some spare change. Upon inspection, it appeared that several bugs had met a tragic end upon my windshield, so I agreed. As the man squeegeed, he also spoke, explaining that he had a regular nine-to-five job, but sometimes supporting a family was more than his pocketbook could take, so on his free weekends, he took up odd jobs. He seemed unashamed to be washing windshields, despite the fact that he was a prestigious plant manager. A couple of guys from his crew even passed by to "wave at the bossman."

This made me wonder if I would be willing to wash windshields for the people I loved. As an adult, I learned that my mother used to spend a couple of hours a week cleaning the local mercantile in exchange for groceries, mostly so we could have a little extra with our Sunday dinner.

I began to look at people differently, wondering what their stories were, and later in the day, while ascending a hill, a tipped-over shopping cart loomed into view. The wind was crazy, and a man struggled to pull the cart upright as his things blew everywhere. The scene was so chaotic that it took me a moment to collect myself and figure out how to respond. After finding a safe spot to park on the edge of the road, I jumped out of my car and grabbed at some of the items that had flung across the street. It took both of our strength to heft that shopping cart back up onto the sidewalk. It must have been made of pure iron and looked to be a relic from the 1970's.

After securing the cart against a tree, the two of us raced to collect his things, most of which were either junk or clothing, and all of which were soaked in alcohol. The smell was so overpowering, I was forced to smile to hide my surprise. In return, I received the full authority of his gaze through unexpectedly sea-green eyes, normally hidden behind a mane of grizzly facial hair.

By this time, other people had also stopped to help, but my new friend turned upon them, angry, and threatened to cut them up into little pieces and throw them into the river if they didn't get away. I remember him saying that they weren't "legitimate," that they "didn't really want to help."

That was when I saw it. This man was a living, breathing soul, and his anger was a defense mechanism. It was his way of expressing the profound hurt—and perhaps deep humiliation—that he had felt that no one had stopped sooner... much, much sooner. Perhaps he was lashing out at all of people who had failed him well before he had ever gotten to this point in life. I cannot be sure, but for one fragment of a second, right when he smiled, I saw the spark of his soul.

I thought of these words: A Particle of God.

A phrase coined by the infamous Dan Brown in his book The Lost Symbol. I was forcibly struck by the idea that God, the supreme ruler of the universe, had chosen "Father" as his number one title. It suddenly became clear to me that every person who had ever lived could very well be a small part God... a particle. This man—hurt, floundering, dying inside—was a particle of God... and I saw it. And I was not afraid. I was awed.

This overwhelming affection filled me as I witnessed this roughened, immense particle—who, despite his problems and addictions—kept fighting. Fighting for his very existence, for his need to be acknowledged as a human being. Something about his reaction told me that the crossroads of his life were rapidly approaching, that he was on the brink of an emotional meltdown if something didn't change. My heart cried out in urgent appeal that he would make the better choice.

Circumpunct: Symbol for God and the Universe
(And many other things)I do not know what expression was set upon my face, but the moment he turned and saw it, his demeanor settled. The buffering of the wind seemed to have little effect on us as we calmly collected the rest of his belongings. When we finished, I inquired after his name, which turned out to be Justin.

It seemed interesting to me that one of the meanings of his name is "upright." We had certainly "uprighted" his cart, but would he be able to upright his life? I instinctively felt that he had what it would take. I think each of us is given the ability to overcome our own particular set of evils, which is good, because it can be tempting in circumstances like these to try and right the problems of other, and though we can lend a hand when the moment strikes, it is imperative that we never rob each other of the right to choose for ourselves.

It is in those moments, at breaking point, that we finally have a chance to show what we are made of; will our particles radiate as we take courage and face the fire or be quelled as we sink back into the darkness?
If it became my lot to wash windshields, or clean a mercantile, or push a shopping cart up a hill, would I be up to the task? Would I be ashamed to have my friends drive by and see me? Or would I shore myself up in a Sisyphean manner, and push my burden—however futile it may seem—with the sure knowledge that the stuff I am made of is a particle of supreme royalty. That, to me, is the very essence of purpose. 
Just for today, look around at the people you think you know... and then look again.
Thanks for reading Eliott's Life Adventures.
Until Next Time,
Eliott