Three people. One moment. Three different truths.
Sometimes the most important lessons don't come from life's biggest moments.
Sometimes they come from a spring afternoon surrounded by thousands of garter snakes.
My children were born five years apart, so they always seemed to be living in different worlds. That particular day they were seventeen, twelve, and seven years old.
We had gone to Narcisse, Manitoba, where every spring tens of thousands of garter snakes emerge from their winter dens. There are walking paths throughout the area, and if snakes aren't your favourite thing, it's probably not your idea of a relaxing afternoon.
It certainly wasn't mine.
The snakes were everywhere. They slithered across the paths, coiled around rocks, and gathered in great writhing masses. My seven-year-old son was completely fascinated. He could have stood there all day watching them.
The rest of us were a little more cautious about where we put our feet.
As we were standing along one of the paths, a young woman suddenly came running toward us, screaming at the top of her lungs.
Without thinking, I looked away.
Many years earlier, I had been taught that if someone had a visible disability or was behaving differently in public, it was kinder not to stare. So I assumed the young woman had special needs and was overwhelmed by the snakes. Looking away felt like the respectful thing to do.
A few moments later I said something like, "Oh, that's too bad."
Both of my daughters looked at me with puzzled expressions.
"Mom," one of them said, "didn't you see what happened?"
"I did," I replied. "That poor girl was obviously frightened."
They both laughed.
"No, Mom!"
They explained that the young woman wasn't frightened at all.
She was wearing heavy makeup, playing a character, and pretending to be terrified of the snakes while someone ran behind her with a camera filming the whole thing.
She wasn't having a panic attack.
She was making a video.
Then I looked over at my son, who had been standing beside us the whole time.
"What did you think?" I asked.
He shrugged.
"I didn't see her."
He had been so completely absorbed in watching the snakes that the entire scene had barely registered.
Three people.
One event.
Three completely different experiences.
That afternoon stayed with me far longer than I ever imagined it would.
At first, it was simply a funny family story.
But over the years it became something much bigger.
I realized that this wasn't just about snakes.
It was about life.
Every one of us walks through the world wearing a lens shaped by our experiences.
Mine had been shaped by something I was taught decades earlier about kindness and respect.
My daughters' lens had been shaped by growing up in the early days of social media, where filming pranks and creating videos was becoming part of popular culture. They immediately recognized something I never would have considered.
My son's lens was that of a curious seven-year-old.
The snakes were infinitely more interesting than the people.
None of us was wrong.
We simply noticed different things.
But I'm grateful for that afternoon.
I thought I was taking my children to see one of Manitoba's most unusual natural attractions.
Instead, they helped me see something far more remarkable.
The same moment can create entirely different truths for different people.
After all, we may just be looking through different lenses.
A thought to take with you
Have you ever looked back on a disagreement or misunderstanding and realized the other person may have experienced it very differently than you did?
What might you see differently if you looked at it through their lens?
Something come to mind?
If you'd like to share it, I'd love to hear what this story made you think about.