“The Pivotal Moment”: Perspective for May 2026

A Monthly Inspirational Viewpoint of Life’s Journeys with Sonia Wignall.

Episode Fourty Four

A moment in time that establishes or defines your life’s purpose

The recent death of one of my beloved Aunts took me to a place of remembrance about one of the most pivotal and defining moments of my life. When I thought about her influence in my life, I temporarily went into a deep state of grief, because I never told her about the moment she advocated for my sister and I, and made such a profound impact on my life’s journey. I never told her how much I loved and appreciated her.

Many of us can recall, very vividly, the day and place where we were when we had a “pivotal” life moment. A powerful defining moment in time.

I think back to the story of Ruth and Naomi. Naomi had lost her husband and her only two sons in a land that was not their own. She was so overwhelmed with grief that in returning back to her homeland, she declared, “don’t call me Naomi, (pleasant and sweet), call me Mara, (bitter). Her loss was so sorrowful that she wanted to shift her identity to represent the state that she was in at the time.

The pivotal moment for Naomi, I believe, was not her desire to re-identify herself, but that her daughter in-law, Ruth, who had also lost a husband, insisted on returning with her as a foreigner. Ruth said to Naomi, “Your God will be my God, and your people will be my people. This had to be the defining moment of Ruth’s purpose in Naomi’s life. Ruth went on further and promised Naomi to always take care of her. Naomi’s journey would not be alone. The presence of a “faithful daughter in law” would help in her healing process.

Growing up in a single parent “Dad” home had its wonderful and loving moments. However there was always the never ending reminder that the nurturing love, support and attentiveness of a mother is missing. My dad was a highly skilled “Zapatero” (Cuban shoe maker), a master craftsman in the art of leather works, care, creation and repair.

My dad was not a mother. There is a powerful and significant presence that a mother brings to her children’s life.

When we became a single Dad parent household, I was 6 and my sister 9. My dad worked hard and tirelessly for us. His day time absence due to his work schedule often left us to live an almost independent life. Although he was a wonderful dad, he was not by nature a man that celebrated life’s special moments neither his own, nor ours.

There were no special birthday celebrations, no cake etc. No Christmas holiday events. We gave him presents but received none bought for us, from him in return. No family dinners in or out. No gatherings in our home. We just lived.

Our family owned a shoe store, my dad’s gift system was for us to take what we wanted from the store. We never took pictures or were photographed with our dad as a family. All pictures were taken elsewhere.

All of our Aunts that arrived from Cuba, either with us or before us, had bought a home, and were living life as close to the American tradition as possible. Celebration of birthdays, anniversaries, graduations, Thanksgiving, Christmas etc, was their norm. Our Aunts always invited us to their home, feasts, gift exchanges and festivities. There were always presents under their trees for us, or moments of celebration planned just for us.  

It was at one of these festive seasons in my Aunt’s home when the pivotal moment in my life occurred.

I was enjoying the atmosphere and all the family activities and preparation. My Aunt, who lived in a house of 7 including her husband and 5 children, was always cooking. Breakfast to lunch, lunch to dinner, the cooking never stopped. I was always grateful to have her home and my other Aunt’s homes to go to. Her husband, at times, could be unkind. He came into the kitchen that day and said “why are these children always here?” She told him not to say that because we were always welcomed in their home.

At that moment, his words pierced my 10 year old heart so deeply and painfully. Was my sister and I unwanted because we did not have a mother in our own home?

That singular voice of rejection became the most pivotal and defining moment in my life. His rejection of us was profound. That home was, like our other Aunt’s homes, the place where we were nurtured as part of a larger family group. It never occurred to me that any member of that home did not want us there.

During the hours, or days that we were visiting family, we felt the joy of both family fun, good food, and a temporary mother taking care of us.

From that day forward I quietly made a vow of a few life missions:

1. To always have our own home.
2. Always be kind and offer food to anyone that is visiting our home.
3. Be generous whenever possible, because we do not know what someone else’s journey, or economic situation is.
4. Make our home a welcoming place of comfort, peace, inclusion and joy.

Since that day I have chosen to live a life of “inclusion and generosity.” I intentionally choose to make “space” and comfort for others.

If you are invited to my home, you can bring a friend, or friends, just let me know how many. Same for our dinner parties and other events. You do not have to ask my permission, there will always be enough food for us and room at our table for more.

Although over the years there have been other pivotal moments in my life. That day in my beloved Aunt’s kitchen was the most powerful defining moment for me. It was the day I understood the pain of not being welcomed and that I had the power to change that narrative in my life and that of others.

 Unbeknown to me, that was the day, the moment that the spirit of inclusion and advocacy for myself and others was born in my soul

“Give even when you only have a little.”

African Proverb

If you want a strong society, it has to be inclusive.

If you have to push a boulder up a hill, do you want 10 people or 100?

If you weed out colour or gender, you get 10.

Cyndi Lauper