Bugles

Ok. So i'm sitting in my office eating a small bag of Bugles at my desk....actually, now I'm done with my bugles, but nonetheless, i am sitting here pondering when to do with my future. Yes, I said when. I have already prayed about God's calling for my life and I know without a doubt that, 1) Yes, I am leaving for Peace Corps. 2) Yes, I will become a Licensed MH Therapist. and 3) Yes, I will get married...one day, not rushing. Now I'm just wondering the when's.
I am ready to leave for PC as soon as I finish my dental stuff, wish I had my MA now, and not trying to get married anytime soon. Sometimes I think that I am so in a rush to accomplish all of the great things that I know life can bring that I am willing to miss out on the little journeys I have to take to get to the big journeys that will further lead to my destinations. I hope that I don't become so engrossed in my life, and myself for that matter, that I miss out on all of the wonderful people and places around me.
So many places and people and so little time.

I leave you with a newly favorite poem:


The house by the side of the road
by Samuel Walter Foss (1858-1911)

There are hermit souls that live withdrawn
In the place of their self-content;
There are souls, like stars, that dwell apart,
In a fellowless firmament;
There are pioneer souls that blaze their paths
Where highways never ran;
-But let me live by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by-
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.
I would not sit in the scorner's seat,
Or hurl the cynic's ban;
-Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I see from my house by the side of the road,
By the side of the highway of life,
The men who press with the ardor of hope,
The men who are faint with the strife.
But I turn not away from their smiles nor their tears
-Both parts of an infinite plan;
Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.

I know there are brook-gladdened meadows ahead
And mountains of wearisome height;
That the road passes on through the long afternoon
And stretches away to the night.
But still I rejoice when the travelers rejoice,
And weep with the strangers that moan,
Nor live in my house by the side of the road
Like a man who dwells alone.

Let me live in my house by the side of the road
Where the race of men go by
-They are good, they are bad, they are weak, they are strong,
Wise, foolish- so am I.
Then why should I sit in the scorner's seat
Or hurl the cynic's ban?
-Let me live in my house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.