Embracing Change

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood..."

While I love Robert Frost's poetry, especially his "The Road Not Taken", this scenario doesn't adequately describe the kinds of decisions we regularly face. It's an oversimplified view, and one that I've too often employed, that if we correctly input variables A, B, and C into the equation of life everything will come together perfectly.

But life doesn't work that way. It's not about a correct decision or two to yield a desirable result. So much of life isn't about right or wrong, good or bad. It's about how we think the outcome of our decisions impact how we feel. So much of life is about our plans, our expectations, and coordinating the reality and change of life to our plans and expectations.

For me, this realization means adopting a more realistic perspective of the people and situations around me. I cannot expect people and relationships to progress perfectly as if in step to some unseen script. It means that no amount of education, no attainment of degree, and no specific job or career will complete my life. That isn't to say that there isn't merit in ambition, purposefulness, and hard work. It's just that what we pursue won't perfect us, won't complete us. They're just elements of our stories.

Life is a lot more complex than two roads in a wood. Life is, instead, comprised of a seemingly endless litany of variables and possibilities. And we don't have to stress about getting it just right. We don't have to place undue pressure on ourselves that our happiness hinges on the appropriate outcome of each choice we make.

Life doesn't play out like a movie script. We aren't players acting in accordance to some written character arc. It is flux. Change. Chaos. It is adaptation. Dealing. Progressing.

Before the big snowstorm obliterated every trace of fall, there was a particular tree in my neighborhood that caught my attention. This tree-- while all the others had long since shed their post-color change leaves-- clung greedily to its dark, crisp leaves. While the rest had long let go, preparing for the next season, this one tree held on stubbornly. As if to hang on to the present. To prevent the march of time. To prevent the vulnerable barrenness and insecurity of winter.

As with the tree, letting go is a necessity to make way for what is next. For what is better. Maybe it's letting go of a specific notion or ideal. Maybe it's letting go of unrealistic expectations of a friend or loved one. Maybe it's letting go of the false belief that this life demands perfection or will yield a perfect outcome. It's more than Robert Frost's conclusion to simply take the road less traveled by.

So at the beginning of this new year, I don't know what this next year-- or the future-- holds. I am resolved, though, to embrace the change and inconstancy of life. I am letting go of old attitudes and idealized expectations. I am pursuing God, the person He would have me be, and enjoying each unpredictable moment.