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"You don't work, do you?"
I can't tell you how many times in the past thirty or so years I've been asked that question. The inquiry is innocent enough and never comes with malice; it isn't a "dig" of any kind. It's usually asked by sweet, well-meaning people who are just looking for a little extra volunteer help. However, I cringe every time I hear it.
If one is asking whether I receive paid compensation from an outside employer, the answer is, of course, no. I DID at one point in my life, but just because I no longer "clock in" somewhere outside the home, it doesn't mean I don't work. I have spent the better part of the last three-and-a-half decades being a stay-at-home mom to four littles, homeschooling the four of them from kindergarten through high school graduation, spending glorious time taking care of my grandchildren, and nannying the neighbor's two babies for a while.
I helped put together some sweet weddings, got a nearly hundred year-old home ready to be put on the market, and am currently helping to maintain and spruce up our "new" eighty year-old casita for our golden years. I think it's safe to say that, YES, I work!
You know, we make plans, plans for the future, life goals. We dream, we pursue. Sometimes those plans work out exactly as we thought. Sometimes they don't. Sometimes we find ourselves navigating completely foreign waters. Maybe the choice to re-route was ours. Maybe there was no choosing involved at all. Perhaps some great storm, some deluge, re-routed the river and we are simply trying to find our bearings amidst unfamiliar landmarks.
Fall of 1987 found me in such a place. I was the head band director for a middle school in the Northside School District, was finishing up my Master's degree at UTSA, and was very pregnant with our first child. I had made all the necessary plans to have our baby, be out the six weeks on maternity leave, and then return to the classroom (aka band hall) after the Christmas break. It was all going to work out fabulously.
Things happen.
Plans change.
Mark, our sweet baby boy, was born jaundiced. Not something uncommon among newborns. "Not to worry," the hospital said. But... it was a worry. For after a number of weeks placing him in his crib where the sunlight could bathe him in its healing light, he was no better. In fact, he was getting progressively worse. There were tests... so many tests. So many doctor's visits. So much discouraging news.
I found myself torn, torn between my obligation to my students and my obligation to my child. I could not bring myself to leave my precious boy with strangers all day while I spent time in dedication to other people's children. We knew not how much time the Lord would give us with Mark.Those early predictions were so menacing, so scary. I wanted to spend every moment I could with him, especially if the Lord chose to call our baby home so soon after He had given Mark to us.
Are you familiar with the poem, "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost? It begins with a dilemma... a choice of two roads diverging in a wood. As but a single traveler, he could choose only one. Here are the final two stanzas of that short poem. Though some literary critics have suggested that we may be interpreting Frost's poem all wrong, I suggest that you get out of it what you bring into it... perspective is reality, so I leave it to your interpretation. I have mine.
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 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.
In 1987 I had my own dilemma. It resulted in a re-routing of everything I had planned, of everything I had mistakenly thought I wanted... career, advancement, perhaps even the pursuit of a doctorate. It turned out to be the greatest blessing of my life.
Please don't misunderstand me. I'm not projecting my thoughts, my life choices, onto anyone else. Each of us has to navigate his own path whether it's one of our choosing, or one through which circumstances have thrust us. We do, however, have a choice in how we respond to that re-routing when it comes. We can become frustrated and frenzied trying to paddle against the current, or we can be still for a while, trust that our good and loving God remains in control and begin looking for the unexpected blessings that come from the road less traveled.
This week I came across three different articles from three different sources discussing the unexpected benefits that have surfaced from 2020's global pandemic. I would never use such a trite expression as "silver linings," for 2020 brought with it a tremendous loss of life and livlihood, but I do think that good can come even out of some of the worst situations. None of us expected the deluge that sent us careening into uncharted waters. We will all emerge changed, different... but we don't have to emerge worse.
The first article was posted in a little neighborhood publication. It was an interview with Phillip Paecock Bakke, King Antonio XCVIII. He began by discussing the ways in which lives were abruptly turned on end during the pandemic, changing the way we conducted business and attended school. He went on to say that "not all was lost, and actiually something extremely valuable was gained; we were suddenly spending much more time together as families at home." Bakke mentioned interviewing a number of children, asking them what they might have enjoyed most about this past year. The overwhelming response? "Spending more time with their families, especially their parent(s)."
The second article appeared in the AAA Explorer. It was titled: "A Balm for Our Time." Dan Oko, the author, talked about trying to get out to the East Coast to see his dad last summer, but the pandemic interfered. His daughter's summer camp shut down, his wife lost her job, and his flights were canceled. His family decided to "make lemonade out of the lemons 2020 had served us." They made new plans to camp their way from Texas to New England hitting up state and national parks along the way. He had done research into the benefits of open-air activities to help combat anxiety, depression, and stress as prescribed in the book Vitamin N, a guide to a "nature-rich life," by Richard Louv. Oko declared it good news he could use.
The third bit of information came from the internet, in a Youtube spot, nonethleless. I was initially trying to see how the German Schmear technique was done on brick, but something on the side scroll caught my eye. It was a piece on "cottage core." I hadn't heard this term before, so I gave it a look. Apparently this is a lifestyle movement, not necessarily born out of the pandemic, but, which has certainly gained popularity because of it. It's kind of a Beatrix Potter meets Little House on the Prairie style combined with a dash of Snow White thrown in for good measure. It's found not only in the way people decorate their homes, but also in fashion choices, and in the way life is lived altogether. It's a "back to basics" kind of agrarian vibe. Prairie clothing is popular as are cozy homes filled with vintage and antique furniture, lace, and china. People are gardening, knitting, baking from scratch, and tending livestock. In the face of the uncertainty and the stress of the unknown, many have embraced a simpler, more self-sufficient existence.
Our world has certainly been rocked by the events of the past year. So many have suffered so much. We were unceremoniously pitched into waters fraught with rocks and rapids. We have struggled long and hard to keep our crafts upright. It appears that calmer waters are nearing. We can take a breather, be still... and take stock of what God has brought us through... and what unexpected blessings have come because of it.
I hope and pray that we never have another year like the last, though I know in a fallen world there is no guarantee. Our own individual lives get tossed about from time to time too. We face choices. Choices face us. When the re-routing happens, we needn't fear. We just remain still, take a deep breath, put our hand in His, and move on.
Sometimes I think back to that time in my life when I faced the two roads, knowing that moving down one would likely mean leaving the other behind for good. Life would change. I would change. Do I regret the path I took? Not for a second!! For you see, God is with me, whichever route. That means there are blessings on both sides... and I have known many!
Let us rejoice and give thanks for God's provision and protection in bringing us through these deep waters of 2020. As there have been hardships and pain, there have also been blessings and beauty. We have returned to the values we may have forgotten a bit before all this began. The importance of faith. The power of prayer. The value of family. The beauty of Creation. The blessings of home.
Yes, dear poet, we too have taken the road less traveled. We may not have chosen it as much as it chose us, but let us also affirm and continue to pray that it will have made a difference... all the difference for better.
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