The Sonder Effect

By Tarin Butler

The Sonder Effect,
reveals through a story how we all play a part in each other’s lives. Strangers come and go, it is a constant flow of people in our lives. This book helps to identify our connection to one another and the signs made available to you from God.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Balboa Press
• Release date: Nov 7, 2022
• ISBN: 9798765235157

Tarin Butler

Tarin grew up in a rural community in the northeast. She longed for adventure and set her dreams on big city living. Life events caused her to give up dreaming to go to work and raise a family, but she was surprised around every corner. Bad luck had silver linings and turned into blessings caused Tarin to realize she was on the right path, no matter what happened in her life.

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Copyright © 2022 Tarin Butler.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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The author of this book does not dispense medical advice or prescribe the use of any technique as a form of treatment for physical, emotional, or medical problems without the advice of a physician, either directly or indirectly. The intent of the author is only to offer information of a general nature to help you in your quest for emotional and spiritual well-being. In the event you use any of the information in this book for yourself, which is your constitutional right, the author and the publisher assume no responsibility for your actions.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

ISBN: 979-8-7652-3514-0 (sc)

ISBN: 979-8-7652-3515-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022918176

Balboa Press rev. date: 11/03/2022

Dedicated to

the miracles in my life.

First two,

then three—

heart and soul, full.

Better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.

—Reverend Seizan Kawakami, Inscribed on a rock on the edge of a cliff in Saipan

Sonder: The realization each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own

Contents

Iris and Lana

Ruth

Ruth Alone

Ruth and Brennan

Ruth Alone

Ruth and Brennan

Ruth

Iris and Lana

Lana and Ruth

Iris and Lana

Cable and Brennan

Ruth and Fred

Cable and Brennan

Cable, Brennan, and Ruth

Cable and Brennan

Iris and Lana

Brennan

Lana

Cable

Iris and Lana

Brennan, Fred, and Ruth

Cable and Brennan

Ruth and Fred

Lana and Ruth

Iris and Lana

Brennan Decides

Ruth Cornered

The Call

Meeting of Minds

Dead Reckoning

Shed a Little Light

A Gentle Rain

Moving Target

All Covered with Snow

Six Months Later

Addendum

Iris and Lana

Walk with me, said Iris.

She was my new friend, who popped in at the weirdest moments, requesting the weirdest things. It was nine o’clock at night. I was finishing my dinner dishes and ready for bed.

I know it’s cold, but look! It’s snowing. Iris pulled back the curtain at my back door, smiling widely.

Yup, it was snowing. I sighed and followed her out the door, pulling on my winter clothes, a jacket pre-stuffed with scarf, gloves, and a hat. I then mashed my feet into my boots. I stood on the landing of my house, looking like the Pillsbury Doughboy.

Iris, however, looked like a gypsy. Her hair was long, but it was not white or blonde. It was shimmering gold, even in the winter, when clouds covered the sky and blocked out the sun. On a night like this one, we could only see snowflakes falling in the streetlights.

Iris naturally had flowing, thick waves that most women paid lots of money for. I knew I had paid dearly myself trying to mimic the same, but I’d resigned myself to an updated Dorothy Hamill that my mother told me I must update.

She explained to me that nobody knew who Dorothy Hamill was anymore. Iris and I were complete opposites. I suspected she had a kick-ass body, but I didn’t know because her clothes were always loose and appeared to flow rather than cling to her body. My clothes hung off me and tended to bunch. Opposites, I tell you.

Lana, listen. Iris broke my concentration.

I don’t hear anything, Iris, I said.

Yes, the world is silent, as if God said, ‘Hush, it is time for bed.’

It was exactly what I was thinking.

The houses glow from wood heat. Light flickers in a random beat from television sets playing favorite shows. Isn’t there a peaceful comfort hearing our feet crunching and packing down the snow as we make our path alongside the roadway? Iris said.

She then spread her arms out and twirled in the snow. The houses sit tucked tidily in snowbanks; wisps of smoke escape from their chimneys; and the outside mimics the inside. Observe the people snug and warm in their heat. All are glowing, all getting tucked under heavy winter covers, warm and safe.

I felt as if Iris was teaching me something. She moved along in the snow, flowing like an angel hiding her wings. Iris’s wings would have to fold under a wool poncho and over thick leggings, which she complemented with tall leather boots that came to her knees, and her hair was partially trapped in a crocheted beret.

I didn’t know when she had managed to wrap a scarf around her neck and push her manicured hands into big chunky mittens, but there she was. Her face glowed in the streetlight, and I hoped the light would be as flattering for me. Her eyes were gray, and her smile tried to encircle me like a hug. I turned away.

Ah, don’t you love it when the snow falls through the streetlights? The children will be hoping for no school tomorrow, and these big flakes will make for good snowmen and sledding. Oh, what fun.

Iris continued. Isn’t it grounding to walk through your neighborhood and sense the calm in these houses? They are finishing dinner, finishing the dishes, doing homework, doing laundry, watching TV, and getting ready for bed. All the things you imagine people must do as the night settles into darkness and sleep overcomes them.

I smiled. But I swore to myself that if she started twirling around under the streetlights and singing like the von Trapp family in the Sound of Music, I was turning around and going home. I did enjoy her company though; my life had been boring.

We do not stop to think about the people who live in the houses we pass. What type of lives do they lead; what types of love do they endure? Iris said.

What do you mean what type of life or love they lead? I asked her, wondering if I wanted to know the answer.

For instance, Lana. The house we just passed has a man in it who constantly yells at his wife. Iris was matter-of-fact.

My head snapped to look at her.

Oh yes, my dear. He yells loudly all the time. He’s hard of hearing, and he won’t go to the doctor either—his poor wife.

Wait, what?

Now this house is cute as a button in the summer. There are always beautiful flowers out here in the front. Wait a minute—don’t walk off just yet. Let’s watch a little more, Iris said.

The television was the only light inside the house. Outside, the quiet was so strong it began to hurt my head. I knew only one woman who lived there. I could not imagine a reason to stand outside the home.

Look! Iris exclaimed.

Inside, I saw a woman putting a framed picture back on the fireplace mantel. She sat in a chair.

"Look