There Is Always One

I drove past the retention pond.
It was next to the parking lot near the outlets where I planned to do some shopping.
I pass it all the time but never really notice it.
However, this time I did.

The retention pond was doing exactly what it is supposed to do.
It captured the water run-off from the higher elevation areas.
The pond was filled with water.
It actually looked quite lovely with the sunlight dancing off the water.

What made me notice the retention pond this day were the geese that gathered there.
There were so many geese, I could not count them.
The geese were all lined up like little soldiers along the waters edge.
They were all perfectly still; they were all facing the same way.

Their uniformity made me smile.
They were facing the sun.
I assumed they were enjoying its warmth.
I wondered if they were sleeping, standing on one leg with the other tucked in their feathers.

As I was driving by, I noticed one lone goose.
This goose was not with the others.
This goose was in the water.
This goose seemed to enjoy having the entire retention pond to himself.

I watched him swim in circles.
I watched the ripples in the water.
I watched the goose enjoying the solitude of the pond.
Even though many geese were on the water’s edge, no goose was swimming with him.

There’s always one, I said out loud.

My aunt, who I loved and cared for before she died was like that lone goose.
She marched to a different drummer.
If we went out to dinner, we would all be done our meal because she would send hers back.
I wanted the gravy on the side, she would say politely as they took her plate away.

Can’t you just eat the roast beef with the gravy? My mother would ask her.
That’s not the way I ordered it, she would say.
There’s always one, my mother would say.
It was not until I was older that I understood what my mother meant.

I watched the children as they were on the stage.
They were all facing the audience singing the song they had practiced over and over.
There was one little boy looking in the other direction.
A fly in the room was far more compelling than singing a song to an audience.

There’s always one, I remember thinking.
There is always one nonconformist.
There is always one who marches to a different drummer.
There is always one who just cannot go along with the crowd.

As parents, we sometimes stifle that independent spirit in a child.
We know that school, athletics, band practice, and dance rehearsal requires conformity.
We know about the disdain of the crowd.
There’s always one, takes on a critical tone.

Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way. When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly. All the people saw this and began to mutter, “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.” But Zacchaeus stood up and said to the Lord, “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.” Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. ¹⁰ For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” (Luke 19:1-10)

I cannot relate to Zaccheaus’ lack of height.
I can usually see over the heads of most people in a crowd.
However, for Zaccheaus, seeing Jesus was of utmost importance.
Zaccheaus would go to any length just to catch a glimpse of Him.

Zaccheaus was like the lone goose in the retention pond.
Zaccheaus did his own thing not caring about what the others said as he climbed the tree.
I am sure the others were standing on the side of the road just like the geese on the water’s edge.
There’s always one, and that day it was Zaccheaus.

You and I have to ask ourselves if we tend to just go along?
Are we the ones standing with the group, sleeping with one leg tucked under us?
Are we afraid to leave the comfort of the familiar to stand alone?
Or does, there’s always one, apply to us?

I saw the lone goose and smiled.
The geese on the edge of the retention pond did not seem to phase him in the least.
The gaggle of geese stood there, sleeping.
One goose made beautiful circles in the water.