If we live our lives well (at least this is the way I define “well”) then we live not in numbness and lethargy and apathy, but fully alive and feeling, aware of the sacred around us, and with an ongoing commitment to living an examined life — one centered on the presence of God, the teachings of Christ, and the power of the individual to change the world in some way, however small. And if we live that way, we should often find ourselves standing at metaphorical thresholds and forks in the road wondering which way to move, for there should always be choices to be made. A life lived well should never be lived on autopilot. To me, the worst kind of life would be one where I felt I had no options.
So here I stand on the threshold of so many decisions and life choices, as well as facing some health challenges and life changes over which I have little or no control, at least on the surface. Of course, we all have choices to make, even if the choice is about how we accept those things that have been thrust upon us.
Obviously, the biggest threshold is one about my health. I am about to enter what will certainly be a new dimension of my life. I will leave for a while (one side of the threshold) a world of professional work, colleagues and the security of “what I know” to enter a darker of world of which I cannot fathom a glimpse – a world of hospitals and doctors and pain and discomfort. Most of all, it is a world of unknown (however hopeful) outcomes. I like to be in control and I won’t be, except over my attitude, my faith, my love of life and family.
But at the same time, I enter this world infused with a feeling that all will be made new, that perhaps this forced time of retreat and re-treating will better illuminate the path I will follow in the coming years. I can envision myself standing on this threshold, with a clear view behind me of who I am and what I do, but with the view in front of me darker and cloudier and more expansive. It is a desert, perhaps, that I must cross to see what’s on the other side of the horizon.
Despite the dark unknown, life seems full of hope and possibility right now. My most fervent prayer has always been: Show me the way and show me your will. I think where I am standing now is exactly where I am supposed to be. Robert Frost’s most famous poem, “The Road Not Taken,” has been bouncing around my head for days now:
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.
The sun is shining this second day of April, and I’m going out for a short hike in the woods near my house. Today I rejoice in the fact that “way leads on to way,” and that I don’t always know where I’m headed. Have some faith, I tell myself…
Health update: A boatload of tests yesterday to prove to the insurance company that my heart and lungs are strong enough to make me a good recipient of the stem cell transplant. We should know next week whether my sister is a match for the transplant or whether we’ll need to go to the bone marrow registry to look for a match. I’m feeling good and blood levels are slightly up. Thanks for asking…
16 comments On Standing at thresholds and forks in the road
We are praying for your intentions, Steve. God be with you and bless you always.
Today’s writing has struck a chord with me. I have been writing for some time and I will forward one to you that I think you would appreciate as it is about choices. This poem from Frost is a favorite. Thank you for bringing me back. May your prayers be answered soon. I am asking family and friends to include you in their prayers as well. The circle grows!
Kathleen
Thanks, Kathleen…for spreading the circle of prayer…looking forward to reading what you send….
Thanks for sharing, Steve. Way will open…
It seems to me you have made a lifetime habit of traveling the Highest Road.
This is one of the many things i admire about you.
Thank you for keeping us all in your “loop” – sharing your journey with us.
I join the army of Love – holding you in prayer.
-g-
Thanks as always, Georgy. If I’ve been able to walk to high road, it’s because I’ve been surrounded by such great like-minded folks…like you.
Steve I have been reading your contributions to Living Faith for some time now. Just recently saw the info about your chemo book. It is good to see you moving forward toward a cure. I am a breast cancer survivor who went through both chemo and radiation.
Just joined. Looking forward to more of your writing.
Will add you to my prayers.
You are in my prayers, Steve…
Thanks for the prayers…
Steve
Hi Steve, I am praying for you and your family during this time. I look forward to hearing your updates. “Jerimiah 29:11” God Bless
Hi Steve,
I am glad that I read your blog today. May God bless and guide you and your doctors and nurses in your upcoming treatments. I am sure that you will have much to share after this experience. You will probably be able to write another book. You have been and will continue to be in my daily prayers.
Love & Peace,
Debbie Henderson
Thanks, Debbie. I appreciate all your good thoughts and prayers. Please tell everyone on the RCIA team hello for me…
Peace be with you. You are one of my favorite reflection authors in “Living Faith.” Your “thresholds” piece has really touched my heart…I needed to read/absorb it today…we have been sharing the same prayer of knowing the way and His will….
Thanks, Susan, for writing. This “seeking God’s will stuff” can be tough at times, especially during our tough personal times…
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Keeping you in my prayers. Gentle hugs.
Thanks, Ginny. Doing well these days.