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Patti Digh and I have very few hard fast rules but one that is sacred above all is this: you must stop at a lemonade stand and buy whatever passes for lemonade from the kids. No exceptions. Lemonade stand = immediate thirst. A few months ago we stopped at a stand on the way to the store and, because we took the same route home, we stopped again. No exceptions.
Last night I took a walk to unwind the knot in my mind. I turned the corner and saw the lemonade stand to beat all lemonade stands. Had I never stopped at lemonade stands, had I been the lemonade Grinch, I would have stopped at this one; the 3 young girls operating the stand gave passers-by no choice. They were 100% in.
It is important to know that I heard the stand before I saw it; before turning the corner I thought there must be horde of teenage boys cruising the streets to show off their cars: the music was loud, rowdy, heavy on the base, hip hop. Instead of boys peacocking, I turned the corner and saw three little girls, perhaps 6 years old, each in pink ballerina tights and skirts, dancing with full heart and throttle a choreographed piece, punctuating every 8th downbeat by shouting “LEMONADE!” Cars careened to the side of the road as if caught in the magnetic field of these three dynamic girls channeling the spirit of Tina Turner. Invisible hands grabbed unsuspecting evening-strollers and pulled us into line.
The lemonade and Dixie cups sat on a table stage left, it was serve yourself and put your money in the jar. I spied a dutiful mother waiting behind a hedge, ready to refill the pitcher when it ran low; the line was long and slow and no one wanted to leave.
Like other patrons, I left an extra dollar for the privilege of having our lives so enthusiastically and abundantly affirmed: no holds barred living! They gave me a new image for making BIG offers and those little magicians danced that knot right out of my mind.
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The Direction of Intention 