The Road Not Taken

Robert Frost (1874–1963). Mountain Interval. 1920.

1. The Road Not Taken


TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;
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Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim,

Because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,
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And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.
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I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.
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The Race is Long

The older I get the more I appreciate silence, or should I say, the more I appreciate my ability to hold my tongue. Abraham Lincoln was credited with making this quote from scripture memorable,"It is better to remain silent and thought a fool than to speak up and remove all doubt." Certainly with two labradors I seldom experience quiet - as they are always up and around running, barking, digging and otherwise not remaining silent.

What is the beauty of silence? Probably that in those pregnant pauses something more profound than words can be present - something more meaningful. Example: Steve and I rode 20 miles at the Apple Cider Century Bicycle Ride in beautiful Three Oaks, MI today. We said little to each other, but kept peddling down roads together, sometimes he was in front, sometimes I was, but mostly we were side by side. There was something familiar and comforting in that.

While riding I was reminded of a song lyric that goes something like, "Don't spend time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind: the race is long. And in the end, it's only with yourself."

As the autumn leaves fell gently to the country roads and everywhere around me people were quietly peddling forward, forward, forward - families, couples, small, large, every race imaginatble, hundreds at times - a hundred breaths keeping time with the peddles, I understood. The race is long, and in the end, it's only with yourself.

Going East

I was driving home from Merrillville, IN when I noticed it: I was the only car -- the one and only vehicle-- heading east. The traffic in the opposite direction was bumper to bumper, car and car and car, as far as I could see for miles and miles-- then, as it grew darker, head light after headlight began shining in my eyes.

It seems I'm always going agaist the traffic, the flow. I'm always taking my own road, going my own way, even when everyone else is going the opposite direction.-- even when I'm driving!

On this particular evening, the sun was once again setting low in the west, shinning red and yellow on the road before me - lighting my way. The others, going West, had it glaring in their faces!

I looked out the truck windows as I pondered this. The height of the truck gave me a little perch to see farther than normal -- and what did I see? Beyond the cars streaming mindlessly by... the gold and yellow and red gleaming beautifully on everything -- against the fields, the houses, the old country roads -- the woman far away hanging laundry.

What I saw was not worth defending, what I saw was worth fighting for-- worth claiming as what I love. What I cherish. What I value. There are certain types of people who live and die by - and certainly are driven by - high ideals or values... things like Character, Honor, Duty, Service. These types of people are few and far between, even fewer among them are women. For better or worse, God help me, I am one among them.

It occurred to me that if I have to die, and surely we all do, wouldn't it be best to die for something worth dying for? That on that last day, when I draw my last breath, that my dying thought will be "I did," and not "I didn't" -- a last dying thought of thankful gratitude to be a useful tool of God and not one that stayed rusting, safe, in the tool bench. Free will gives us that option. I once had a coach in my life who would too often say to me... "Cari-- you should have, could have, you didn't." He was a callous man but he drove his point home. There is nothing that terrifies me more now than "I didn't."

Does it makes sense to dedicate your life to defending that which you love? Of being the "stand up person" who says not only that they "can," but that they "will" when they are called? There is an important difference there. Surely, surely as I live and breathe I tell you - I think so. God does not call the equipped, He equips the called! Over and over again, He shows me this. I am nothing, and yet, look what He has accomplished in me!

Yes, it may get lonely on the road less traveled, but I think - I think, it's worth it.