A Road Trip

Life is a collection of accidents and almost accidents. Life is a conversation overheard. Life is a dream repeated and remembered.

For me one of the things which holds my life together is my faith, my belief in God.

Each day I acknowledge my flaws, my weaknesses and ask for God’s grace and help. At least once a day I pray for a “clean heart” for myself and others. And I remember other prayers, other voices asking God for guidance.

My plan was for the first blog entry appear sometime on Wednesday. But on Wednesday I took an impromptu road trip to West Virginia. That morning I decided to use road signs as a clever way to discuss faith and religion. I was happy with the plan.

Since I was the passenger, I debated bringing my laptop but decided that was a little silly. Instead I brought a steno pad, an ink pen, two cameras and a copy of the Magnificat. I did not have a plan on how I was going to use any of these items but I knew that I would.

I used the pen and steno pad within the first five minutes. I was going to write down every road sign that I passed. I was surprised by the purple ink which appeared on the paper as I wrote my first words. Only ten words were written before the pen and steno pad were put away.

And then I explained my plan. The car drove through North West Washington, past many two story houses with impressive stone and brick facades, past many trees, graceful and protective, with green leaves more vibrant against the overcast sky, past women pushing perambulators on the sidewalks. I saw this and more. There was too much to write down, too much to try to capture with words.

Here was life. Here was hope. I could see it.

Since we were leaving the Washington metropolitan area, I asked if we could stop at a bank because I needed additional money. While I was at the automatic teller machine, the Magnificat was skimmed by my friend Natalie. When I returned to the car, she flipped a couple pages and asked me to read a passage.

It was the Twenty-Third Psalm. It was a responsorial. I glanced at it once. Then, as we drove on the freeway, I began to read the Twenty-Third Psalm.

In my heart there was an instant of pure joy and hope as the words were repeated and loved ones remembered.