Sunday, June 8, 2014

CROSSROADS: LIFE'S QUESTION MARKS

I don't remember when I reached the first major junction in my life, but I'm almost sure I took the wrong road.  If I sat down and thought hard enough, I might remember most of the crossroads that appeared along life's highway . . . but I don't want to do that.  How many wrong roads have I taken?  And how would I know for sure it was the wrong road?  I can answer the second question.  Where you end up reveals whether or not you made a good choice at the crossroads.  The destination of a road we pick at these junctions or crossroads is seldom known to us, and we call that uncertainty.  The most difficult thing any of us deal with in life is this uncertainty.

My family is small, just a couple of kids now in their forties, and a couple of grandkids - a 21 year old, and an 18 year old.  I'm the only surviving grandpa, and I know some things about crossroads.  From what I can determine at this point, my kids and grandkids haven't figured out which road to take.  So far, their choices have been mostly wrong, and there are always consequences to taking wrong roads.  My two grown children have been through their wild and wooly years, have taken a beating doing it (lots of wrong turns), and are starting to make wiser decisions.  The two grandkids are at least consistent - wrong road always, ignoring sometimes the right one even though it is plainly marked.  Do you remember those marked crossroads?  How many wrong roads did you take even forewarned that it was treacherous?  Yeah, me too, but I'm old now and know better.  I pay attention to signs now.

I come from a family of high achievers.  Both of my parents were highly educated (one a minister and the other an educator), and they demanded the same of me.  I resisted at first, but the constant pressure they put on me finally paid off.  Like any good parent, they tried to point out the roads I should take when presented with crossroads . . . but I didn't pat attention.  Life beat me up a lot - yeah, a whole lots, and it finally beat me to my knees.  It's easier to pay attention when you're on your knees because by then, you're finally humble.  Listening takes a certain amount of humility, and it took lots of suffering to bring me to that point.  I was forty years old when I finally took a right road, started building a life based on taking into consideration the signs life also gives us.  Sometime finding the signs that tell us which road to take is hard because they aren't all that obvious, but they are there.

I made sure both of my kids got good educations, tried to point the way for them as they chose professions and got on with their lives.  My two grandkids are struggling right now because they're all puffed up with youthful arrogance . . . and ignorances.  I've got big time investment in both of these young people, but I've reached a crossroads myself.  Should I follow the road of intervention, do my best to get in the way of their wrong road choices, or should I become an observer and watch as life beats them up?  Which is the wise road?  I chose the road of intervention with my own children, and I did that with a firm and demanding hand.  Doing that took a lot out of me, and I'm tired now.  I'm just the grandpa, not the parent, and I choose the road of the observer.  That means I've taken the road of letting go, but I've traveled it before . . . and it's a bitch.

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