Valorie Wells is a writer and hypnotherapist. She gardens, grandmothers, and laughs. Click on the Introductions link for her bio.
A trusted spiritual leader recently hypothesized that perhaps we humans receive our imprint from God/Creator at the moment of our earthly birth and everything after that is up to us. Sort of the ultimate free-will carnival ride, I thought.
This comment was surrounded by a casual discussion of death, dying, and the impact that process has on we survivors, particularly those of us who have accumulated layer upon layer of “immediate family.” Her thought was that there might not be as much interaction with the One we call God during the culmination of a lifetime as we would presume.
That got me thinking about some of the most amusing road signs I’ve seen, especially here in the Midwest.
Like the large red rectangles at the foot of highway exit ramps that read, “Wrong way; do not enter”.
Well, I guess if you’re used to driving on country roads, where any direction that’s going your way is the right way, then this could be a very useful sign.
Or the tall black and white signs in Great Britain that are posted at the exits of any parking area, which advise, “Drive on the left; look to the left when merging.”
Except that this phrase is repeated in about five languages!
How incredibly thoughtful of the Brits to recognize that the largest part of the motoring universe drives on the wrong side of the road!
So, when considering my friend’s supposition that we get our imprint at birth and the exit ramp is up to us, I had to reflect on that a bit longer.
And I have come to believe that we do indeed get our ‘trademark’ at birth.
(Ping! You will be a twice-married, mother of three girls who enjoys solitary walks in the forest, family gatherings and international travel).
However, I also tend to subscribe to the idea that our appointed side of the road has an amazing number of exit ramps, which is where we get to revel in that free-will business. So, our journey follows a certain prescribed direction on one of many pathways but the real adventure begins when we follow our creative nose to take a side street now and then.
And that made me smile to remember riding in the back seat of my wee Scottish Grandma’s old Plymouth Valiant. It was Flamingo Pink with Dove Grey wings. And because Granny was only 4’11”, Grandpa attached thick wooden blocks to the pedals and she sat on a red velvet cushion.
Anyway, a ride out to the end of Long Island with Grandma meant a trip that was twice as long because the dear soul, in her mink stole and black-veiled hat, took every blooming exit to the right. She would neatly signal, follow the exit and continue right back onto the next entrance ramp as if that was the proper way to go.
I think it was my second road trip with Grandma when I learned to recite an entire rosary from memory.
But we made it! And, bless her feisty soul, we did have a real adventure getting there!