In high school I had an English teacher that introduced me to the poetry of Robert Frost. I was not interested in poetry at the time but felt an immediate draw to his work, particularly his “The Road Not Taken” poem. As an idealistic teen (is there any other kind?) this image of going my own way and not being fettered by the hang-ups and expectations of the world around me appealed to me on every level. In many ways this poem felt like an anthem. I would “take the road less traveled by” as I moved forward in life and that would “make all the difference.”

Fast forward twenty-five plus years and life’s journey has been a far cry from the ideal I once envisioned. In fact, if I had to give a title to my journey, it would not be “The Road Not Taken.” Instead I would call it “roads I was thrust down and never desired to travel to begin with” (I am sure a publisher would make me come up with something catchier).

There have been moments where two roads diverged before me. I had the opportunity to ponder the merits of each, to carefully weigh the knowns and unknowns, and strike out. But, more often than not, I started down an unasked-for road unexpectedly.  I have a strong inkling these roads of mine are not “less traveled by” either. Maybe you’ve journeyed them yourself. They carry names like rejection, inadequacy, illness, pain and loss. I have never knowingly chosen these roads, yet over the course of my life I have found myself upon them again and again.

The reality of life is I don’t always get to choose my roads, but I can choose how I travel down them. I spent many years trying to take matters into my own hands when these dark journeys would begin. Trying force things that cannot be forced and beat back the wind, my efforts always end in exhaustion and futility. More recently, I still struggle to immediately “count it all joy” (James 1:2) when trials come but I can say I am making progress. I am learning more and more to trust God down these painful roads. How do I know? Because right now I am walking on a path I don’t really want to be on. My current road is not gut wrenching (I’ve been through worse) but it is hard. Despite this I am moving forward. I have my eyes open for an exit, but I’m not spending all my energy searching.  I am talking with God about it, but not in complaint. I am simply talking with my Heavenly Father about the things I’m struggling with.

God is aware of my journey, for he is the one overseeing it all. He always has been. I have learned through these unwanted roads the greatness and immensity of God. He is so much bigger than the pocket size God I imagined him to be when I was younger; there to pull out and consult on which choice resulted in an “easy path” future. He is so much more than a compass to the “easy path” life. And I’ve walked no path so hard that God could not miraculously used it in ways I could have never foreseen.

So I am walking a path that is not of my choosing yet again but I am learning to rest in the journey. I have walked enough without him that I know holding his hand down a hard path is better than going alone down an easy one. These hard roads give me more opportunities to see myself, the good and the bad, and grow closer to him than a primrose path ever could. There are no roses where I am walking now, but God has told me up ahead there are crowns.

I leave you with my rendition of “The Road Not Taken”. Warning: This is not great poetry. I have never claimed to possess that gift beyond the occasional “Roses are red and violets are blue…” so forgive the bad couplets and horrendous meter. I am still playing around with writing. Besides, this version has a truer ring of reality to it.

The Road Not Wanted

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
The one I desired lay beyond reach.
An unwilling traveler, shell-shocked I stood
And gazed longingly back as long as I could
To where my desired road bent beyond view;

Placed upon another, not quite as fair,
Harsh darkness seemed to press in,
The hardship of this road felt too much to bear;
And hope a distant echo there
This road’s destination seemed a despairing end.

Yet my Maker knows how these roads lay
And he journeys with me as I go.
He has a plan though I can’t see a way
And he has proven faithful day by day
I know no pain is wasted in his hands.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I trusted God on the one I did not want to traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.