From France to Rome; playing Frogger in the streets

Rome. Birthplace of civilization. Seat of world power for centuries. Home
of one of the world's most efficient and effectively organized military system.
Mother of creative artisans and architects. Totally lacking any recognizable
traffic laws.

I have to say, Mark Bigger is a good man. He has a heart. A heart that cares
about his friends. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my memory I think I can
hear my mother tell me to not wear dark clothes and walk along the street at
night. Something about the drivers not being able to see you cross the street.
But I really have trouble keeping those sorts of things all sorted out when I am
on a mission to get from point A to point B.

So, last night, we finally decided that the wonder and awe of Rome had given us
enough to think upon and we started to head home.
During the course of the time here it was discovered that the only way to cross
a street is to just step out into the street and start walking. Any cross walk
light is very rare. The drivers of scooters, cars, mini-cars, micro-mini-cars,
and huge buses will all come to a screeching stop as you walk by. They may try
to sneak in front of you by taking an angle or just wait until you are half a
step past and then gun it by behind you.

Last night proved how theology affects your life. I believe that God has a time
for me to live and when that time has come to an end, I will die. Until that
time, I'm ok. Without really getting into the details, if it is your time to go,
it is your time to go. Apparently, this concept is one that, as a practical
matter, Mark is not as comfortable with as I am.

(BLOGGER NOTE: AS THE CREATOR OF THIS BLOG IT IS MY PRIVILEGE TO SAY THAT WEARING
DARK CLOTHING AND STEPPING OUT INTO ONCOMING TRAFFIC LATE AT NIGHT WITH A BUNCH OF
DRUNK ITALIAN DRIVERS BEARING DOWN ON YOU SEEMS LIKE A VERY FOOLHARDY
APPLICATION OF THEOLOGY. SO THERE.)

So, with my mind on the mission and my heart relaxed by the knowledge that if
its my time, its my time and if not, then not, I led the mission toward home.
(There were a couple diversions to see one more great ruin, et al) As scooters
swerved, buses tested their brakes, and cars tried to gun past, I was happy to
make crosswalks in new places all across the city.  Apparently, when it is
night, and you have on dark clothes, it takes a couple seconds longer to see you
as you step out into the traffic. Mom was onto something afterall.

But hey, these are the people that gave us the Ferrari, right?  With all they
have done, I learned why they don't need rules - they are really good drivers.
Crazy, sure. But great reflexes and a good sense of spaitial relationships.

And so, we eventually arrived home and went straight to sleep - with the
exception of Mark. He had spent so much time praying and worrying about me as
I crossed and re-crossed the streets of Rome (stopping traffic with an
outstretched hand for him to make it) that he was wide awake and could not sleep
a wink all night long.

So, we've learned some things: Mom was right. Rome is magnificent. Mark has a
great & caring heart. They might be crazy but Italians sure know how to drive.
And finally, theology at least got Jeremy and I a good nights sleep.

SNO

 . .