Car Tattoo

A couple of years ago, my husband suggested that we get some sort of sticker/magnet for the back of our minivan so the kids could distinguish it more easily from all of the other vans that look exactly like it. I said that was fine. But then I never got one.

When we were hiking this summer, a friend and I had a conversation about why I don't have any tattoos when I profess to want one. It comes down to, in the end, not a fear of the tattoo itself, but a holding back, a reluctance to permanently mark on my body that this one thing is so central to my being that I’m willing to advertise it with my very skin.  For the rest of my life.  I have considered the Christian fish symbol, because the Kingdom of God is something I think I really believe in, or want to really believe in, and to me the Kingdom is what the story of the loaves and the fishes is about. It's an illustration of what the Kingdom is like. Jesus doesn't agree with his disciples that the kindest thing to do for the crowds is to send them off to a place where they can get dinner, although the disciples mean this as compassion. No, He says, "You feed them." The Kingdom is like that: no half way. YOU. FEED. THEM. And miraculously, there was enough food. In the Kingdom, there is enough. Is there enough because God miraculously multiplied the loaves and fishes or because under the influence of the here's-everything-we-have-laid-out-for-you way of living, others put forth everything they had as well? Either way, it's wonderful. So I have thought about getting that fish somewhere.

But I haven't.

Unfortunately, that fish has been co-opted to mean other things. It's been used as a symbol of the argument between Christians and atheists, and between creationists and evolution. It's come to be associated with a type of person that I am not. And even if it meant to everyone exactly the sort of faith I want it to mean, I'd feel inadequate to have it on me. I slip and fall and fall away and doubt and blatantly sin, and tattooing myself with that symbol seems presumptuous and like it sends the wrong message. I worry it would seem to proclaim not what I hope to be but what I am already. I'd hate to boast before the world of my piety when that piety is not always controlling my behavior. Perhaps I overthink, but a tattoo is a matter worthy of much consideration, in my opinion. I am still considering getting a tattoo somewhere I would see it but that would be unobtrusive to the general public, as a sort of reminder. But I haven't figured out what that spot would be. Inside of the wrist?

So back to the van. Less permanent, but more public.  Echoes of the same issues. What do I believe in enough to drive around in front of it every day? I find far too many things on people's mini-vans and SUVs to be annoyingly self-congratulatory. Those “26.2” stickers, for example. Or worse, multiple race distance stickers. I have run marathons, but I would be terribly embarrassed to proclaim it to everyone I met, even though I am not embarrassed to have done it. Just, what is the point? “Hi stanger: I ran five marathons!! Did you?” Some people have run longer and faster, so who am I to boast? Some cannot run marathons. Heck, I probably cannot run marathons anymore, so would that “26.2” magnet be a lie? Would it inspire anyone, or would it just be there to show off? How many people would see a 26.2 sticker and think, "Hey, I should run a marathon!"? And if it’s there to remind me of what I’ve done, should I put a sticker on the back of my car that I have a master's degree? How horrid would that be? Or how about a "Magna cum laude!" sticker? How about, “I gave birth without drugs!!”  What else could I put on there to remind myself (and others, since it won’t be inside my car but on the bumper, which I rarely see) that I’m awesome?  Maybe some people ought to put their seven-digit salaries on the backs of their cars. Or maybe people should have a tally of how many hours they have spent volunteering in homeless shelters and food banks. I have a little more tolerance for the stickers that illustrate the people in the family, but not enough more to actually do it. Who but me cares, really, that I have two kids?  I have friends with four kids.  I know of people who had kids accidentally. I have a few friends who desperately wish they had one. Would that little stick family bring anything worthwhile to the people driving behind me? I guess people would claim these things are just self-expression of what is important in their lives. Well, OK. I can accept that your family is where your heart is. I'm not sure why you need to advertize your heart on the back of your SUV, but OK. (Just don't start adding a list of all of your family's accomplishments too.) To that end, I almost agreed to go with some version of "Swim, bike, run." My sticker would not specify that I won second in my age group at a small Olympic Distance triathlon one year. Just that those are things I love. And, come to think of it, I would recommend them to most people on some level. Maybe "be outside" would be better, but I never came across one of those.

 

Then on vacation this summer I spotted some magnets from an organization called We Add Up. Their slogan is "No one can do everything. Everyone can do something." I liked their car magnets. I almost bought one that said, "Be the change." Then I saw it hiding behind a “peace” magnet: the car magnet I've been waiting for.

 

The back of my minivan now features a brown magnet with a picture of a smiling worm and the word "compost."

 

There it is. It makes me laugh.  I love the way it turns the car magnet culture around a little.  More importantly, though, here is the something I can drive around in front of every day of my life. Composting is amazing! We've had a compost bin for a few years now, and it has never filled up!!! Seriously!  I have put every single vegetable and fruit scrap from every meal I’ve made or eaten in my house in that bin, and it still isn’t full!! The pile grows all winter, until I think, “Oh, we’re finally going to need a second bin,” and then all summer it gradually decomposes and melts down into nothing: into thick rich dirt that I spread around in my garden a shovelful at a time. (A year’s worth of vegetable and fruit scraps in a vegetarian household produces only a shovelful or two per year!  It’s amazing, I tell you!) Composting takes something that could be terribly harmful and makes it into something amazingly helpful. It makes it into delightful flowers and delicious homegrown vegetables that feed my family without use of fossil fuel to transport them.  (You feed them, He said.  Here.  With what you already have.) Even better, composting is as easy as throwing things in the garbage, which everyone has to do anyway.  Anyone could do this amazing thing for the planet (and save on garbage fees) with almost no additional time or energy!  Why doesn’t everyone compost?

 

Ah, maybe they don’t know about composting.  Maybe they don’t know where to start or who to ask.  Maybe they don’t realize it’s really important.  Until now.

 

Now my car magnet boldly proclaims to the world (or all of it that drives behind me in my little suburban town and parks next to me at the grocery store) that I BELIEVE in COMPOST!  I believe. 

 

The tattoo parlor may be next.