They’re messing with the traffic signals. Evidently, 21st-century humanity is in such a rush they can’t sit through a red light. I’m getting used to the flashing yellow arrows, but feel sorry for all those who still have to somehow apply mascara.
To me, flashing yellow connotes sunshine; not an effective warning. In fact, to a lot of drivers yellow means, “Floor it.” Those pedestrian crossings? You couldn’t pay me to use one of those.
Through this life, I’ve ignored too many yellow-light warnings. Heck, I’ve walked right by flashing red flares! At various junctures, somebody’s tried to warn me off—but I perceived them as Henny Penny bellowing, “The sky is falling!” Or I assumed they were still just lying little boys, Crying Wolf.
But now, much later, I’m thinking: So what if they were hit by a falling acorn? Who cares if they’d cried wolf a few times? In hindsight, I should’ve listened. Sadly, I’m older now; some of those vocal chickens are dead—and I never said Thank You.
Why do we choose to heed one black-and-yellow striped barrier (probably just a bump in the road), but totally ignore the bright-red banner ahead of a gaping ditch? I submit that the culprits are pride and apathy. We emphasize our own intellect, and downplay Chicken Littles who we think are mistaking acorns for apocalypses. Plus, we’re all susceptible to subtle settling; we just don’t like homework. We figure when the time comes we’ll just skip around the giant gap in the road. (Hmph. Let me know how that’s going.)
As I consider the times I bypassed wise and gracious (flashing-yellow) warnings, and consider where I am today, I have to archive all this somewhere. So here’s where I’m landing: (A) I’m right where God ordained me to be; but (2) I’d probably be here with fewer bruises.
Which brings us to the moral of the story.
Don’t underestimate a chicken: they probably learned a lot from that acorn.