One of my favourite poems growing up was Robert Frost’s, “The Road not Taken”. I was constantly enamored with this idea that life was an adventure, full of unknown twists and turns, with who-knows-what kind of exciting thing just waiting up ahead, around the bend. But I couldn’t expect to have those adventures if I took the same path that everyone else was taking; if I chose the wide, bricked road with safety rails and park benches, tourist guides and rest stops. Rather, I had to choose the path “less travelled by” that was nearly hidden by wildflowers; the one that jumped over flooded creeks and snaked through haunted forests. Here you cannot always see where you are going, you cannot always tell what lies ahead, but you do know that you will get there, in perfect timing.
To me this poem connected the idea of an unknown adventure, with the Biblical narrow gate – another one of those sparkling moments when literature and faith come colliding together in perfect, chaotic harmony. Robert Frost meets Jesus Messiah, imagery meets allegory, pondering thoughts meets ultimate truth…
It’s a beautiful idea, isn’t it?
But lots of ideas are – especially in poetry.
Perhaps I forgot to mention the darkness. The emptiness. The foreign (lying) feeling that you are completely, and utterly alone; The sense that you may be straying from the path because it takes time and discernment to read the signs; The foreshadowing doubt that maybe… just maybe… this might be the wrong path.
Not so beautiful anymore.
So this is where I insert another well-known poem of encouragement and comfort: “Footprints in the Sand”. The incredibly insightful image of thinking that we are left to our own devices through the worst of times, only to realize that He was with us every step of the way – not just leading the way with blinking lights and neon signs, but carrying us when we thought we could go no further.
I love that picture. It’s an amazing one, and I try to think of it whenever I can. One day, I want to have a version of that plastered all over my wall. Or my mirror. Or maybe even on the cover of a journal… But I’d be kidding myself if I didn’t recognize that sometimes I lose sight of that picture. It’s not everyday that I get the view of hindsight, and that’s hard.
With this new stage in my life, these two pictures: that of the winding, narrow road, and of the footprints in the sand, are the ones that I keep reflecting on. They are visuals, they are poetry, they are words… they are my language. I understand them, reflect on them, and respond to them.
I have absolutely loved teaching (although, there were days…), but I am in another bend in the road and this time, I want to share the things I see along the way. Not only for the benefit of everyone out there, but for myself. In my own language.
“In the midst of a whirlwind, she saw herself at a crosswords. Half excited, half nervous, she took a deep breath – one hand in the One who makes all things possible, the other in the hand of the one she shares her life with – and she took her first step…”
And then… well, then she wrote a blog.
…”And that has made all the difference.”
