Signs (Kid Stuff)

They’re everywhere.  Even on the edge of nowhere.  

Signs on the interstate are as common as stones in a quarry.  They tell us where to go, not to go, when to go, and how to go.  Maybe the American need to think independently is the reason why the cruise control is habitually set three or four notches faster than the post.  Maybe there's a bent to add just a little bit more for good measure.  After-all, if some is good, more has to be better.  Maybe something else.

Some signs resemble life.  They get busy, lose their focus, and end up doing very little all that well.

Some follow in life’s footsteps. 

  And some imitate life.  Or is it the other way around? 

 And then there was this sign. 

 It’s size was maybe 5 inches by 7 inches and it was attached to a metal studded “T” fence post.  There were many such signs posted.  Maybe 100 feet apart, the signs ran straight line on the edge of a campground in Yellowstone National Park.  Two hundred yards back were all the comforts of American society – toilets, electricity, and fast food to name a few.  But those comforts quickly disappeared along with any evidence of tourists as the row of signs came into view.  Bears had been seen from a distance the day before, so the little signs gave pause.  And an old saying resonated:  “A mother with cubs can be a most dangerous encounter.”  But that was quickly dismissed – not a mini-van driven by a soccer mom running late for practice anywhere to be seen.  But seriously, how likely was it for the bears to abide by the rules and stay on their side of the line anyway?  And so the decision was made to go forward.  Besides, it just feels good to break a rule every once in awhile.

    

Well, not a hundred yards further, and a loud report broke the calm of an otherwise completely peaceful walk through the woods.  A few seconds passed.  BOOM, BOOM, KA-BOOM - in quick succession.  And there was no doubt as to what was happening – Park Rangers were doing bear control back toward the campground.  Explosives were being discharged intent on scaring off a bear before there was a human encounter.  Small problem – they were probably funneling a 900 pound juggernaut of teeth, claws, and fury straight towards an encounter with a 170 pound tenderfoot.  Well, before the final repeat stopped ringing in the silent distance, images began playing out in my mind of an incensed bear crashing through the sparse stand of lodgepole pine.  Then dead quiet………..shattered by the chatter of a chipmunk.  And the synapses began firing like a 4^th of July finale: 

“Climb a tree.”

“No, play dead.”

“Are you kidding me!  Make eye contact and back away - slowly.”

“Stay calm.”

“Get out the bear spray.”

“Ya know the bite of a Grizzly can crush a bowling ball.”

“Stay calm!”

“The tree can’t be too big or the bear will come right up after you.”

“Bug spray.  Bug spray.  All we have is bug spray.”

“No.  No.  No.  Make yourself look as big as possible.  Lift your backpack over your head.”

“You idiot!  That’s for bobcats!”

“Stay calm!!!”

Well, by the time that little debate ended, the bear, if there was one, was in another state.  And soon a calmer, yet equally intense, discussion emerged.  Confidence insisted that the chase continue, while apprehension argued for the better part of valor to be discretion.  Nevertheless, a compromise was fashioned whereby the boy could grow but the man could remain secure.

Perhaps the lesson to be learned is that the conversation in and of itself is to be embraced, instead of being shunned as it has in the past. 

But in the end, this is what stuck:  Rebellion (Psalms and Prayers)