Little Feet

Human existence is full of twists and turns.  My wife and I once visited the home of Robert Frost who wrote a poem entitled “The Road Not Taken” that contained these words:

“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.”
It was quite easy as we stood on the porch of his home to imagine him sitting there near Derry, New Hampshire after having returned from a walk through a yellowed wood that inspired this famous poem.
No one knows when their life starts out, or in the middle, and perhaps not even towards the end, what pathways will appear before us and which road we will travel.  All we can do is make the best choice we can with the moment in hand..and trust God to journey with us.
On the beach in Laguna Nigel, my little grand-daughter left tracks in the sand, her tiny feet barely in the picture at the top of the frame.  I wondered as I took it where her feet would carry her in life.  Which paths would she choose?  Will she choose wisely?  I know she will make mistakes and choose unwisely at times (we all do!), but I hope and pray that more often than not, she will choose the best paths that lead to the best results.
We are all leaving tracks.  I hope they are good ones that the little ones who come behind us can safely pursue…and paths that we would be proud to have them follow!
_MG_3485ON THIS DAY IN HISTORY: in 1923, prominent Indian agent James McLaughiin died in Washington, D.C.  He was best known for his inadvertent role in the death of Sitting Bull, the great Sioux chief.  McLaughlin wrongly suspected that Sitting Bull was a leader of the Ghost Dance movement. In December 1890, he ordered the arrest of the old chief, believing this might calm the tense situation on the reservation. Unfortunately, during the arrest, a fight broke out and McLaughlin’s policemen killed Sitting Bull. The murder only exacerbated the climate of fear and mistrust, which contributed to the tragic massacre of 146 Indians by U.S. soldiers at Wounded Knee later that month.  McLaughlin actually liked and respected the native Americans and was married to a woman who was half Sioux.  When he died, he was buried in the South Dakota reservation town that wears his name.
TRIVIA FOR TODAY: strawberries are the only fruit whose seeds grow on the outside.
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