When I was a kid I misunderstood the street signs that said “Pedestrian Crossing” to be “Presbyterian Crossing” and asked my mom why Presbyterians had to cross there, and I wondered where we Baptists could cross the street. I had never seen a “Baptist Crossing” sign. My mom explained through her laughter what the signs meant and the Presbyterians and Baptists can use the same crosswalks.
This week when my mechanic called me saying that what I thought was a routine problem with my 13-year-old car was far from routine and extremely expensive, I decided to become a pedestrian. I sold my car to the shop. This was a huge step for me. I have hung on to that car many years longer than I should have. It carries in it 13 years of memories. Driving to Kingston Canada, to Ft. Lauderdale and everywhere in between with me singing to the radio at the top of my lungs.
Living in New York makes having a car a convenience and not a necessity, so I’ve decided to try out the pedestrian lifestyle. It means I’m going to be waiting on a train tomorrow morning to go to church. But it also means I can sleep in since I don’t have to get there an hour early to get a parking space. It means I’ve given up a level of independence—I can’t just hop in my car and go places when I want to go. And that’s going to take some getting used to. I’m not one to give up her independence easily. But on this week when we heard that global warming is very real. I think it just might be a sacrifice worth making.
No comments:
Post a Comment