A Reason for Everything

A Reason for Everything

As you know, hindsight is 20/20. Often we ask, why did I do it that way? Or, what was I thinking? For some inexplicable reason we can change a typical routine. Take a different route to work, or leave 30 minutes earlier than usual. What encourages us to suddenly change things often without apparent explanation? Perhaps, there is a reason.

I had been driving home from work late one January night. Well, morning actually, it was around 2am, a typical time for a closing manager of a restaurant to be heading home. For whatever reason, I took a different route this night.

It was a beautiful winter night with the snow gently falling silently to the ground. The silence was almost deafening. Empty tree branches reaching up into the dark sky, the street lights shining through them. It was so peaceful…until I saw the little boy.

Here, in the darkness of winter, a pajama-clad young boy, about four years of age, was trudging down the snowy sidewalk with purpose. I slowly drove by watching him in disbelief. So many questions immediately popped into my head I head to pull over. Where is he going? Where does he live? Where are his boots and jacket? If I just drove away, would his frozen little body be discovered in a snowbank? I couldn’t let that happen.

Turning the steering wheel hard to the left I made a U-turn and drove back towards the boy. He was marching stiffly as fast as he could. When I pulled up next to him I reached over, rolled down the window, and asked if he needed a ride. With a great shiver he said “yes” through clenched teeth. The young boy slid into the passenger seat. Only then did more questions arise. Is this how children go missing? Was I being watched by someone? If so, were they going to call the police? Despite all appearances, I had to do something. The poor lad was freezing!

I cranked up the heater as high as it would blow. Where do you live? I asked. He wasn’t sure of the house number, but he could point the way to his home. During our brief drive I mentioned that it was very late for him to be outside. What had happened? I inquired. Typical of many children, his answer was direct, if not innocent. He had been staying with his aunt overnight, but he missed his mom. So, he decided to go home. 

His pointed finger brought us to a small townhouse. I escorted him to the front door. I rang the doorbell a couple of times and waited silently for an answer. What if we were at the wrong house? I thought. I looked over at the boy who stood quietly next to me. No, we were at the right house.

Suddenly, a lock was being unlatched. As the door opened light from inside the house washed over us. A very disheveled woman stood on the opposite side of the threshold with an expression of utter shock on her face. Is this your son? I asked, as I pointed to him. She was silent. The boy, on the other hand, greeted his mother with a wave and stepped into the house. Without a word, the woman turned and closed the door. You’re welcome, I muttered, under my breath.

Since that incident, I have determined that I was put in that time and place to assist a little boy who made a bad decision, but was too young to realize it.

Perhaps there is a reason for everything.