His Still Small Voice by A Woman Assigned

A Time for Everything: Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: a time to be born and a time to die, 
 a time to plant and a time to uproot, 
a time to kill and a time to heal, 
a time to tear down and a time to build, 
a time to weep and a time to laugh, 
a time to mourn and a time to dance, 
 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, 
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, 
a time to search and a time to give up, 
 a time to keep and a time to throw away, 
 a time to tear and a time to mend, 
a time to be silent and a time to speak, 
a time to love and a time to hate, 
a time for war and a time for peace.

I had a conversation with a stranger in the BMV this morning. We spoke briefly about how we both observe that people just go along with the status quo, never challenging what's in front of them. Never taking the time, or making the effort to examine beyond what is told to them, or what appears to be popular. Following blindly down roads that appear to lead to popular places, people and things, with no thought about the outcome. While I sat here in front of my computer, feeling the need to blog, Robert Frost's poem entitled "The Road Less Traveled came to mind." I've read the poem several times and many theories can be derived about what the writer meant, implied, inferred, and a host of other analytical and literary terms. The poem in its entirety reads: The Road Less Traveled by Robert Fros t T wo 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 ...