In the fall, gnats swarm above the sidewalks, shining pillars of cloud, testifying, maybe, that though we were cast out of the garden, we have also been brought out from captivity with signs and wonders, and that, though we wander in the wilderness, we do not wander without a guide.
In spite of all potential significance, I swat them out of my course from library to workplace. Am I wrong? I think not.
But I also wonder: do we sometimes swat signs from our path, all unknowingly? Are we so focused on our own destination that we see the signs as nuisances instead of the kind guides they are meant to be? (Think of Eustace and Jill, floundering in the ruins of the giant city because they were so set on reaching Harfang.)
Should we walk more slowly, remember what we are looking for, be certain before swatting? For, to swat at a sign out of our path is almost a guarantee that we will be swatted out of our path — and onto the one we were supposed to follow in the beginning. (Think of Eustace and Jill, chased by a giant hunting party.)
I would prefer not to be swatted.