October 24, 2010
As we've driven across a fairly big section of the country I have noticed the far too many crosses that dot our highways. Some roadways are such that you anticipate their presence before seeing the crosses, others surprise you. I've often thought about the variety across the nation: some areas seen to limit their appearance to a simple, small, white cross; others are very elaborate personalized tributes. Whatever their form, all have the same meaning. A precious loved one has died. I hate to think how many of these lives were very short indeed. How many of these car accidents took the lives of children? Not really wanting to know the answer to that one.
Did the family erect the cross as a reminder of their love? as a warning to a dangerous intersection? as a plea for prayers to ease the pain? Each cross gets the same response from me, and I'm sure from many others. I offer a short, silent prayer to the family, to the many who traverse this way that they do so safely, that the people we love will never have such a plaintive marker on a roadway to tell of their passing.
Today at the Rio Grande Gorge parking area, where vendors sit at tables outside their cars, I was surprised by such a marker. So I took the picture to go with the blog I've often thought of writing, but hadn't. Until now.
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