There are several repeating markers in my life. With good and bad memories whispering, I can see why they are here and have a good idea what they are pointing towards. There are moments where I find myself wishing I did not know what I know. I want to block out the lessons from yesterday and approach today with innocence. In my heart, I know this is a juvenile way of denying, but, if only for a moment, it releases me from doing anything with what I know.
Life has an interesting way of reminding me that I am never off the hook. I cannot leave the principles I try to hold closest to my heart at a metaphorical door and pick them up later. I might think I can choose differently, act as if I had never met care and kindness, had not experienced compassion firsthand, or had let go of my commitment to restoration. As the markers like to remind me, I cannot be who I am not. I am who I am.
Life’s markers tell a story which, as one listens to them, takes one to a place of opportunity and accountability. I, along with many others, drove through the scene of an accident last night on the way home. The five lanes had a damaged car on the end of the left lane as well as two on the right side. There were people getting out of cars, but no police or emergency vehicles at the scene. The car on the left was nearest to me. It was clearly damaged in the front and rear and likely the driver’s side which was near the guard rail. It was also dark and silent. I looked, considered, and drove on like everyone else. The image lingers in my mind as a lost opportunity to be human.
When events unfold, some are announced through marks in our lives. The psalmist reminds us “a portent of vengeance on the God-defying nations, a signal that punishment’s coming.” (Psalm 149.7)
Markers are opportunities to be used or lost.
