
Christmas generously gave us a bit of white this year. It started Christmas Eve, in the afternoon, while we were on a walk in the woods. Little smatters of snow turned into real snowflakes that remained on the ground as the trail began sending us down toward the winding edge of a river. By the time we reached the river, our path was whitewashed with a delicate layer of snow, which brought out my Narnia-influenced awe, transforming the walk into a magical quest.
The trail eventually began its gentle climb to the upper meadows. Ahead I could see a place where it forked left and right, allowing the follower to choose between two routes, each way emphasized by a dusting of white. The sight instantly brought Robert Frost to mind, his road-less-traveled poem pulled from the archives of my fifth grade subjects. Even though I couldn’t remember the words, I contemplated the gist of it as we continued our hike on the longer, more challenging path. I planned to read the poem once again when we got home.
I’ve lived most of my life on the road less traveled. An artist is always looking for an original way to say something, to express ideas, or to reach an end; this quest for originality often spills over from artwork into life itself. Creativity doesn’t always make things easier. Sometimes I feel lost or maybe even left out. Most certainly insecure. But for me, to live creatively is profound and necessary.
I am beginning the new year in the midst of a self-imposed identity crisis at 60+ years of age. I retired from purposeful work in order to go deeper with God. He has allowed me to see as one who creates so I've come to understand the process of creating. Now I want to see what He has in mind, without my striving, demanding, accomplishing, pushing or pulling. I’m taking the road of rest, less-traveled by human nature.
Resting in God is actually really hard! I am focusing on deeper study of His Word through reading thought-provoking authors and the ARISE Bible school. I am practicing my art everyday, writing every week, learning to give voice to what I’m discovering. This learning-life takes place in the confines of my small home. For all of us, minimal interaction with people is challenging, whether it’s brought by social distancing or chosen lifestyle. My human nature screams at times, demanding more affirmation and recognition. But I’ve learned that self-focus does not reward the seeker; its appetite is insatiable, never satisfied, always insistent for more. The Kingdom of God is strange to the world of self-satisfaction; dying to self, self-denial, giving away, turning the other cheek and taking up your cross just don’t sound logical!
It’s the road less traveled.
And it makes all the difference.
The Road Not Taken
By Robert Frost
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.
