Sour at First
I came upon this sign pegged into the ground by a farmer’s field. It read, “PRAYER is the best way to meet the Lord—but—TRESPASSING on this property is faster.”
The above message may not be the standard of hospitality in the Midwest of the U.S.A., but my small back-up team and I are getting samples of it here and there.
The other day, when I chose to tread the soft and more safe (or what I thought was safe) backroad, and what turned out to be a thru-way for serious ranching, we met up with a similar type of spirit. Two older men in a pickup stopped where Hayagriva and Marshall were parked.
“Having vehicle trouble?”
“No,” explained my two boys, “we’re with that guy. He's a monk just passing through on a U.S. walk.”
“Not anymore, he's not. Pick him up and take him the f___ outa here, before he gets shot!”
Those two neighbourly men then drove up to me and said, “Listen, thieves come here all the time. They come with guns. There’s bullets flyin’ in the air. And you got mean dogs on both sides of the road.” The message was clear—GET OUT!
“I'm just finishing my walk for the day. Thanks for your concern.”
On the other hand, this morning, the greeting by folks of a more temperate kind came through, including the arrival of media news—Tammy’s article on the North Platte Telegraph Front Page, and Kevin’s from the Lexington Clipper Herald, who covered the story of our walk, meant for over-all wellness.
I was also blessed by the presence of two individual cyclists who decided to walk it out with me. So I ended up with an environment of kindness in the end.
May the Source be with you!