Yesterday on I-84 East, I glanced in my rearview mirror only to see a semi behind me -- with a giant, electric-lit cross on its front grill.
That truck's not from Connecticut, was my first thought. Then, seriously?
Curious, I slowed to let it pass so I could get a look at the plates: They were Georgia.
All is right with the world.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
Yup. Toooooootally normal down this-a-way.
In the normal course of my monthly driving (in which I include trips to my parents' house), I pass not one, but two enormous, sky-high crosses made of what appears to be vinyl siding. I don't quite understand the impulse, but I have become acclimated to it.
there's totally gotta be a way our generation can ironically subvert this. anyone hip enough to think of something?
Pot leaf. (Mock the SoCo Christians and the hippies at the same time.)
I live in cross zone. I have come to love the trucks and the aluminum crosses. When I ride my horses on 195 broad acres, absent of all but me and horses and trees and four eagles and some deer, I can look, when at the high point, across the river and hills, and see the aluminum cross.
I have started carrying a cross in my pocket. It is a disc with a celtic cross in bas relief on one side and the word faith imprinted in the other.
I stroke it with my thumb sometimes.
In a world where tv preachers say way too much, and bar hopping young adults drink way too much, and meth using crazies infect babies with nothingness, how in God's name can I be offended by the presence of the cross. Not me. They might not help anyone else, but they help me.
Post a Comment