The Chosen Road

A poem by a man named Frost illustrates the made decision
to walk a path less travelled, a road with little precision.
As I dwelt upon the journey I have taken,
I realized that my chosen road is no less mistaken;
not a way where no step had yet trodden,
but a winding passage, a trail with people sodden.
I had elected to embark upon an expedition
where walking alone was not my supposition;
instead, I would choose those twists and turns
which led me to people with all their concerns:
an unknown woman, crying heartbroken in a pew;
a stranger on the bus, seeing life askew;
that I helped them in their need is only part of the tale;
in the years since, they have encouraged me full-scale.
Even as I sought to aid those around me,
into my life have come others meant to be:
the parents, siblings and extended family relations,
who for me have made many, many accommodations.
the age-old friends with whom my life would be incomplete,
having walked with me through the good and the indiscreet;
the high school teachers who touched my heart,
recognizing there was more to me than just being smart;
the InterVarsity staff, church pastors and team,
through whom God has spoken about many a theme;
the husband and children for whom I express gratitude
to my God who continues to bless, despite sinful attitude;
the folks who have become family, though of no relation,
simply because they’ve loved me and my family, to our great elation;
friends from those college years, difficult as they were,
whom my insecurity and antics did not deter.
There are women who are older than I,
to whom I turn for experiential supply.
There are folks whom I know, compared to me quite young,
for whom the words I speak are a mothering tongue.
There are my breakfast and lunch groups of friends,
upon whom my day to day sanity depends.
There are those whom I meet through the children, directing and school,
who over time become more than an acquaintance pool.
There are many who attend my and Tim’s classes and Bible studies,
who over the years have become our buddies.
There are my neighbors, now quite a queue,
for whom I am grateful that they are tried and true.
Several people have remained and followed my course;
for wisdom and care, they are my source;
but others have come and gone, their time quite fleeting,
touching my life significantly, though only one meeting.
Old connections have become renewed,
proving that lapsed time doesn’t friendship preclude.
New people have come into my life, filled with much wit,
whom I have been delighted to find are a great writer’s fit.
For some of my friends, there was an instant connection;
despite very little in common, great-sized affection.
With many, the relationships deepened into the sublime,
only through our commitment of regular time.
Still with others, they touched me most through their death,
as I realized the “more” I should have done before their last breath.
The road I have followed has not always been smooth,
Choosing to live with people does not constantly soothe.
There are those times when they simply drive me mad,
because common sense and reason seem not to be had.
There are times when I wonder about my decision,
scorning the path I am walking with great derision.
“Why do I purposely put myself through the heartache?”
“Have we really met at this time at this moment simply for my sake?”
Travelling a road riddled with folks
is sometimes a choice I need to coax;
because being with people means sharing who I am,
letting them see beyond the sham.
Opening up to people means learning to accept
and forsaking those ungodly judgments kept;
but I think of the alternative, hiking the trail alone,
having no one to aid if I trip and am thrown.
If picking a road less travelled the difference makes,
is it a disastrous journey which community forsakes?
I consider losing that delight at sharing an occurence
which brings laughter with each remembered recurrence.
I ponder whether as a person I can even grow,
if there were no one to challenge my status quo.
Every person I’ve encountered along the way
has added delight (and sometimes angst) to my life’s soiree;
but regardless of part, I know this to be true:
I would be different if another path I had gone through.
My chosen road continues to be a people-filled journey,
because only through their touch can I truly be me.
Through their reflection of my actions toward them,
my thoughts about myself truly stem.
I can see myself as God wants me to,
as someone who needs continual transforming anew.
As the years move forward, and I look back,
I can see how I’ve changed, how He’s filled the lack.
Faith, joy, peace and hope; all have been sowed,
through my journey along this chosen road.