Suddenly Seldom Is (Guest Post by Shirley Miller Kamada)
“The Moment That Changed My Life Forever” is a commonly used plot device in contemporary films, often portrayed as a glorious, shining instant, perhaps with rising chords of background music, maybe even fireworks. In writing workshops, this is referred to as “the epiphany.” Borrowed from the Christian celebration of the arrival of the Christ, it is derived from an ancient Greek word meaning to appear. The use of it has become so commonplace in modern storytelling as to be considered a bad tactic, but that doesn’t stop any of us from using it. Life, as we know, is full of epiphanies, moments of intuitive knowing, at times minor, as in the moment we realize that we might not get a tummy ache if we don’t eat so much candy at holidays. But at times, if we are lucky, epiphanies can be major moments. A life can spin on them. Perhaps, like deus ex machina, that is why they make such a compelling strategy for authors.
In my recently released
YA historical novel, Zachary: A Seagoing Cowboy, that moment comes as the
main character, Zachary Whitlock, is tying his shoes. He’d been doing
trigonometry homework while sitting in a large oak tree and surveying the
pasture’s new lambs. After climbing from a limb of the tree through the window
into his bedroom, he slips off his chore shoes and swaps them for his dressier brogans,
knowing there are guests downstairs. The Friends Church Service Committee is meeting
in his home.
Sitting on the top step
to tie his shoes, Zachary hears the voice of Floyd Schmoe, a family friend,
telling committee members about a project: delivering donated farm animals to
families in Japan who had lost their homes and livelihoods in the war. He
heard, “Bombs. Innocent victims of conflict. Hundreds of thousands on the edge
of starvation.” He heard, “Goats. Cargo ship. Japan.”
Zachary would tell it
later, “A feeling rushed through me. Shook me to my bones. The voyage, the
animal care, helping families in need. I wanted to be part of that. All of it.”
That moment changed
Zachary’s life.
A bolt out of the blue?
Maybe, but in life, “Suddenly seldom is.” In truth, in one way or another,
Zachary had been preparing for this moment from the beginning of his life. This
is what makes epiphanies so powerful. Some part of our subconscious has been
preparing to recognize the moment. Life has prepared us. An inner chord is
struck.
Zachary’s own choices
and actions prepared him to join the Heifer Project’s outreach to Japan. His
study of math—problem solving. His understanding of ruminants—sheep are
ruminants, as are goats. And his command of respectful behavior—which supported
him in interacting with crew members of all ranks on the SS Contest, as
well as the staff of Japan’s Agricultural Department at Yokohama Station.
Over time, our commitment
to learning builds a grid that makes it possible to store and access knowledge.
We make connections. We rely on practice, on memory. If we are brave enough to
look outward, to make that first step, we look forward to a future rich in
opportunities, the privilege of serving others, exploration, and, perhaps, even
adventure beyond what we had ever dared imagine.
Shirley Miller Kamada grew up on a farm in northeastern Colorado. She has been an educator in Oregon, Idaho, and Washington, a bookstore-espresso café owner in Centralia, Washington, and director of a learning center in Olympia, Washington. Her much-loved first novel, No Quiet Water, was a Kirkus recommended title and a finalist for several awards. When not writing, she enjoys casting a fly rod, particularly from the dock at her home on Moses Lake in Central Washington, which she shares with her husband and two spoiled pups.
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