Another Fork in the Trail

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.

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.

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.

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.

It is 'late' and I should be on my way to some semblance of sleep because before long I will hear the inevitable cry that wakes me out of my slumber and calls me to motherly responsibility.  The call comes every night.  And on the off chance that I should wake up at 6 am and realize that I went the entire night without waking I am most pleasantly surprised.  It's amazing what 8 solid hours of sleep can do to a person, or so I have realized.  

So why the restlessness, why the lack of sleep?  I think the answer lies in the inconsistency of life and the great looming question mark casting its shadow over the future.  Let me back up a bit.  13 months ago we were living in North Carolina, happy and ready to experience an exciting and laid back summer full of fun and rest (this following a busy semester in school).  That, however was not what our summer looked like at all.  July 3rd, we awoke to a kitchen floor sitting in a small bed of water with more pour onto it every second from the broken pipe under our kitchen sink (I can hear my children crying, but I can't hear a pipe breaking and water flowing... go figure).  This three week fix turned into 2 months and the story goes down hill from there.   In a chain of crazy events, we spent 2 months moving around to eventually 'settle' back into the repaired rental home.  Two and a half months later, God changed our plans dramatically and we packed up and headed to Atlanta in pursuit of a nursing degree.  Three months after moving into our new little home in Atlanta, we got the call from our tenants letting us know that they were moving out of our house in Tennessee.  Are you still with me?  Sorry, for the excessive detail. So, as most poor college students must do, we were forced into moving in with the parents in order to float our mortgage while continuing on with school here in Atlanta.  One semester, two CNA courses, and one CNA II course later we are almost finished.  We are exhausted.  13 months of ceaseless school, constant moving, too many night classes, and never really feeling settled and I can only hope that we will see the light at the end of the tunnel soon.  

It would be unfair and dishonest if I said that the last 13 months have been nothing but hardship.  Hardship has been woven throughout, that's just real life.  But we have experienced so much more.  We have been to places, met people, and had experiences that we never dreamed of having.  We've walked along paths that we had no idea that our feet would ever trod.  We've tasted the bitter feeling of want, and yet felt the sweetness that comes from knowing what our real blessings are.  We are indeed blessed.  We have mingled with people whom we both feel so privileged to know.  We have been lifted and filled by the love of our families, and have watch the caring hands of our parents reach out in service and support to us.  

So why the Robert Frost poem?  Well, because yet another life change is upon us.  We have come to another split in the trail.  Being that going into the woods often times feels like going home for me, this poem speaks volumes.  I can picture the trail and quandary the traveller must have felt.  Decisions have NEVER been easy for me.  I ponder over and labor in my thinking about what to do.  I am analytical and indecisive, not a terribly good combination.  I'm afraid this makes for a lot of long drawn out conversations with Jon, poor guy.  Up until recently we had planned to return to our home in Tennessee to finish out school and then move on from there back to North Carolina.  Upon consideration, we have realized that NC feels too much like home for us to stay away any longer.  And being that we have a desperate longing for home, we feel it is time we finally sold our precious home in Tennessee.  

Life is fluid, it changes, it is change.  I would be remiss if I failed to mention that this decision was from the first moment of conception bathed in petition after petition to God for his guidance.  Faith as we have been so aptly reminded often looks like moving forward and trusting God to direct us as we move.  

When you are unsure which course to take, totally submit 

your own judgement to that of the Spirit of God, asking Him 

to shut every door except the right one.  But meanwhile keep moving

ahead and consider the absence of a direct indication from God to the 

evidence of his will that you are on His path.

F. B. Meyer - Streams in the Desert

I believe the road less travelled by is the road of faith.  How many times, I have simply wanted life to be easy and predictable, and yet it has been anything but that.  I have felt the gnawing desire just to know the end of the story, to know how each season of life is going to turn out.  But I am forced into living in a place of faith, in a place of trust, placing myself at the mercy of One who does know the ending.  So we move forward, trusting Him to block our path or make corrections as He sees fit.   I believe this is the road less travelled.