i am a sign-reader. whether i am driving or riding in the car, i read signs. billboards, people’s clever license plates, bumper stickers, storefronts, oh, and road signs. there are certain areas of the country where signs for attorneys are rampant. other areas tout strong religious beliefs. some signs are clever “buckle up next million miles” and some are deeply insightful “when there’s only one race and that’s mankind… love is in you.” because we adore both road trips and short drives, we are privy to signs galore. one of my pet peeves is to see blatant spelling or punctuation errors on billboards; it makes me rant for several minutes about editors and proof-reading and the propensity for people to ignore the amazing thing called the dictionary.
we took a drive the other day. it was after all the services of the week were over and we were unplugging. turning the car west we headed out in search of a new hiking trail. on our drive we passed this sign. PRAY FOR OUR NATION. no fancy font, no centered spacing, just four simple words. i don’t know how long that sign has been there. it’s not in the front yard of any religious building; it’s just there, in a small park-like setting. i thought, “no kidding.” it seems apt timing.
instead of reading the paper first thing everyday now, we are reading meditations. we are considering the mica moments of the day before, the mica moments to come. we are trying to be hopeful, trying to slough off pettiness and disagreement, trying to avoid those who are clearly toxic to themselves and others, trying to engage in positive ways, trying to spend time doing things that advance us as humans in a big world rather than mire us in stunted selfish plots to further polarize and make inequity even more profound.
PRAY FOR OUR NATION doesn’t just start with folding hands and closing eyes, as much as that may help. it also starts with reaching out hands, opening your eyes, listening, learning, believing that there is only one race and it is mankind.
buckle up. next million miles.