Jill English Johnston

God writes His story on every heart, if we only pause to read it.

The road not taken

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.

I love this poem (along with his Nature’s First Green is Gold).

Many years ago I took the only road I thought I could, but looking back, I realize the road then really did diverge.  I had the choice to stay, or the choice to take the road less traveled.  The choice was clear, which was why I thought there was only one road.  I chose the one less traveled.  It led me down a path of many adventures and travels.  I learned and experienced many things down that road.  

But always, there was something missing.  

That road eventually diverged again and I had to choose which to take.  With delight I find myself on the road I longed for then.  The road of writing.

True, I did write during those years: journals, papers, essays, poems, bible studies, children’s plays, cards and letters.  But never did I sit down and tackle the Stories that filled my heart.  

So here I am, now on the road of Story and “knowing how way leads on to way, I doubt if I should ever come back.”

 

Jill English Johnston

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