THE PATHWAY WE CHOOSE. THE PATHWAY WHICH CHOOSES US

THE ROAD NOT TAKEN

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

Pt. 2

Something I saw on my social media page today made me think about God’s providential care, and His hand in the lives of believers. And it occurred to me that I could have easily taken a completely different pathway.

For you see, when I was about 15, I would often skateboard down to a roadside bowling alley, a transistor radio in my hand, (always tuned to the Beach Boys channel), and I would bowl alone.

Dear readers, I was good. I mean, I was very good. It was not unusual for me to bowl 180 or 190, and once (drum roll) I bowled… a 280! My only regret was I didn’t bowl a perfect game. (They say ‘close’ only counts in hand grenades and nuclear war). At any rate, as the result of my amazing score the manager of the bowling alley, a guy named Ron, treated me to a lemonade.

I mean, I could have ‘been somebody.’ Had I continued practicing, I could have easily joined the pro circuit, and might possibly have won a whole lotta green paper with dead presidents’ pictures. (Perhaps I would have been a multi-millionaire by now).

But, so much like “The Road Not Taken” by Robert Frost, I chose a different pathway in life. To be sure, I got a pretty rocky start, and I often brag about the plaque I have hanging on my office wall.

                                  The American Chamber of Commerce

                                      Recognizing William McDonald

                                    The Recipient of the Prestigious

                         “The Most Menial Jobs Ever Worked in This 
                                      or Any Other Universe Award"

 Pt. 3

Well, not really. To be sure, if I had been presented with such an award, I would probably have dropped it off the pier at Daytona Beach. But, no doubt, (as I have previously inferred), had I continued on the track many people may have thought I was predestined to walk, I might have settled into a rather lucrative profession early on in life.

However, had I chosen the pro bowling circuit, it goes without saying that I would have never been afforded the opportunity to teach at a local university, nor become a pastoral counselor, nor assume the role of a formal mentor.

I love the movie, “Mr. Holland’s Opus.” I think its message is so impactful that I have referred to it in several of my blogs.

Following are the closing lines of the movie. Mr. Holland, a high school band director, is on the eve of his retirement, and we join the governor of his state, as she speaks to an auditorium full of adults and students.

“Mr. Holland had a profound influence on my life; on a lot of lives I know. And yet, I get the feeling that he considers a great part of his own life misspent. Rumor has it he was always working on his symphony, and this was gonna make him rich, and possibly famous. But Mr. Holland isn't rich, and he isn't famous. At least, not outside of our little town. So, it might be easy for him to think himself a failure.

“And he would be wrong. Because I think he's achieved a success far beyond riches and fame. Look around you, Mr. Holland. There is not a life in this room that you have not touched. And each one of us is a better person because of you. We are your symphony, Mr. Holland. We are the melodies and the notes of your opus, and we are the music of your life.”

Over the past quarter century, I have, like Mr. Holland, exercised a significant impact on many lives. I am not embarrassed to say that I have counseled thousands, taught hundreds, and mentored dozens.

Granted, like Mr. Holland, I am not famous, and I am certainly not rich, and I am unknown outside of my little town.

I could have made a name for myself. I could have made a comfortable life for myself. But in all honesty, I can tell you I am glad the impact I have chosen to exert has been on people, and not on a wooden bowling lane.

That old bowling alley where I used to practice closed up shop a very long time ago, and another business now occupies the building. But the impact I have ‘practiced’ on human beings has been inestimable, and the fruit of my fulfilled destiny will live on long after I have gone on to my reward, and will, no doubt, keep on giving through those whom I have touched with my words and actions.

(Funny, almost sixty years after I dropped my sixteen-pounder back in the rack, I can barely bowl 100).

by William McDonald, PhD. Copyright pending. 2019

If you would like to copy, share or save, please include the credit line, above