My inspiration for this record of my days:

“The biggest mistake I made [as a parent] is the one that most of us make. . . . I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of [my three children] sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages six, four, and one. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night. I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less” -Anna Quindlen

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Two Roads

You’ve probably heard the poem 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;

I thought of that poem today in church.

During the sacrament, which is the most reverent part of the service, I looked up at the priesthood leaders sitting on the stand. There they sat, heads bowed, pondering the significance of the atonement and their own personal efforts at worthiness.

At least I presume that is what they were pondering. That is what I wished I was doing. That is what I felt like I should be doing.

Instead, I was whispering in Simon’s ear in an effort to keep him quiet. At the same time I was fishing in my Sunday bag for something to entertain him when he lost interest in what I was saying. Jonah was whispering questions in my ear, and I was trying to make him understand that we can talk about all of those things later, without hurting his feelings.

I looked ahead two rows to see my friend Jamie, also mother of six, trying to whisper something to her six year old while the baby tried to climb on top of her head.

I bet she would rather be pondering quietly, too.

That’s when I thought of the poem.

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;

Jamie was walking one road, Brother Anderson was walking another. And yet… they were both good roads. Both were doing their best, in their own circumstances, to draw closer to the Savior. Both would emerge from this day, having done what the Lord would have them do.

I may have chosen a road that is wild and overgrown, noisy and unpredictable. But it is a beautiful road, and it is leading me closer to my Savior.

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.

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2 comments:

  1. Rosalyn FrancisJune 17, 2010 at 5:34 AM

    So real, and yes, 'taint nothin' wrong with doing the quiet part ahead of time so's we can do train the next generation during those moments. It was when my honey was on the stand that I memorized the sacrament songs so I wouldn't have to juggle the hymn book AND all my littles. You are great. Keep it goin' =)

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  2. So many STARS so little time!June 17, 2010 at 8:47 AM

    Amen. Crew's at that age again. You know the one where I wonder why I even attempt church after all. The good news is I know how quick those halldays are over. But I miss the pondering. Christi- here's the funny part, I bet when all is quiet on our row years from now- we will be thinking the whole time of our grown babies.

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