Roads 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;

 

Then took the other, as just as fair, ...

 

 These beginning lines from Robert Frost's famous poem "The Road not Taken" have appeared in many of my thoughts, either written, spoken, or just plain musing. The assumed theme in my case, of course, would be the split career path taken at mid-life when I headed down the highways and interstates of Canada and the U.S.  A preacher risked his training and half-finished career path for the (?) freedom of a long haul trucker - at least that was the theme in 'casual conversation' circles. Retirement is affording considerable opportunity to reflect on things, in fact the super-reflections as afforded by Coronavirus are providing some extra divergences for my thinker.  I am no longer convinced it was only two roads.   I remember one time already past the magic 65th birthday, still trucking smartly and perhaps at apex of what many trucker buddies look for.  I owned a nice looking truck and pulled a classy reefer trailer bringing salads, tomatoes and bananas from warmer climes.  One day I made a phone call. It was a number once jotted down of another trucking company similar to the one I was with - just to say hello!  Lo and behold, the person answering the phone was the owner - and ready to meet me for coffee, like immediately! Short version of that conversation: he was impressed with looks of my unit, probably the way I presented myself, and ready to add me to his small fleet, even to arrange financing so I could add a trailer to my holdings.  Bottom line, I suppose, now I could make a bit more money pulling for him.                                                                                                           

                                          

                         Upon thinking a bit about this, I decided it would not be a good venture, especially at sunset of my trucking years - best stay put for a bit longer.  Now my thinker is going on (again).  I am reminded of another time earlier in the trucking years, I was enticed to join a heavy haul fleet pulling over-dimension flat deck loads for big money.  I decided also to stay put - easier to pull out of vans than flat decks if the call to preaching became undeniable. 😏

    And now another thought; this one going back to the noble profession.  After a decade of very enjoyable pastoral ministry and after some clinical education, I had opportunity to pursue some further training in same hospital - financially not quite practical but would have been good for the CV.  I turned it down and returned to pastoral ministry.  Good decision?  The jury is still out on that.  Back in the world of congregational ministry I saw those very needs and opportunities for on-the-job clinical training, but it's a concept that does not take easily. People in churches are not interested in on-the-job training. We prefer hiring finished products and then wonder why they don't have any training! 😒 Yup, it's true.

 

    Further thoughts, and these stretch right on into retirement. Pastoral ministry is a profession you can't retire out of.  You die out of it.  So it follows that occasions of decision are not only the opportunities. Also there are the rebuffs, and rebuffs are occasions too! A couple examples. Our pastor needed some personal time to deal with a family crisis. I offered to do some preaching to help out. It was turned down flat. No explanation, except I know it was unprocessed rumor-generated folklore, "Don't give a previous pastor too much air time."  Another example, this from the trucking world and several years after the ego-enhancing owner operator offer described above. My truck is sold by now, gone, gone.  I again happen to speak with said owner.  He is now uninterested in me, "Send in resume if you'd like." 😐 Another stanza of Frost's poem comes to mind. 

     

    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.

    

    Way leads on to way. One decision presents a further, and which was a right one, or a wrong one? Indeed Coronavirus is providing the extra lengths of time to give these thoughts a good working over.  I am coming to realize, however, this is a standard feature of many of us getting just a bit older. Richard Rohr's Falling Upward (Wiley, 2011) tells us this latter stage of life is the time to reflect on the things not accomplished!  Also another book I read about a decade ago,  Getting Home before Dark, by Peter J. Dyck (Herald Press, 2001). He writes in the bold caring style of a life-time warrior at the front lines of Christian service, reminding us all via his own experiences that it's good to make peace with the decisions you've made in your life, speak forthrightly and clearly especially with the loved ones, so that you can put your "what ifs" to rest, and then allow yourself to be. 

 

    Furthermore, some great eternal wisdom in the Bible, ¹⁸ Very truly I tell you, when you were younger you dressed yourself and went where you wanted; but when you are old you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will dress you and lead you where you do not want to go.” (John 21:18). I think of my mom's words toward the end of her days, "We take it as it comes." Rest in peace mama dear.