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Some time ago we had guests on board for a weekend.

The woman, first time I’d met her, was unpretentious, laid back. Nothing about her that spelt danger, excitement, 007 or more.

Until I asked the usual question:

“What did you do before retirement?”

Project Manager. Well yes, that sounds pretty tame. Project Manager of what?

I got her talking. What a fascinating interesting life she’d had. The places she’d lived. The staff she’d overseen.

As her husband phrased it –

“She was in charge of guys that could kill you with a teaspoon and not make a sound while doing it.”

And sending me into a belly laugh, she added –

“But they couldn’t organize themselves out of a paper bag.”

That night, “as I lay me down to sleep,” sleep took a hike. My mind went off into its “what if/if only” mode.

  • The adventures I could’ve had – or not;

  • The stuff I could’ve done – or not;

  • The things I could’ve said – or not.

At some point I stopped.

Chastised myself for thinking I’d been so hard done by.

Sent up a “Hail Mary”.


Calmed down.

My path was pre-destined. And even if I don’t understand –

Isaiah 55:8 “My ways are not your ways, saith the Lord.”

And we all walk different path. At different speeds. In different ways.

Sometimes on our path it’s raining; hurricanes and tornadoes threaten.

Sometimes it’s beautiful and clear, a soft breeze helping us along.

Sometimes we skip along. Sometimes we drag, trip and stumble. A loved one, a buddy, even a stranger stop to help us.

We even leave the path as the grass looks so much greener on the other side.

Then we crawl back. Through the brambles and scrub. And mud. And dust. On our bellies most likely.

It’s our path. Not someone else’s path.

It parting my new friend said, “we just had different paths.”

So true.

I’m on my own path. So are you,

Walk it bravely.

You are never alone.

Cyber hugs and blessings all – especially as you start this new week.


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.

Robert Frost, 1874 – 1963  


Photo by Jens Lelie on Unsplash

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