Rev.Joseph Boyd

Welcome, home. Coming home can happen just like that. It can happen in an instant, and it can take a lifetime. It really depends on the way we define home. The critic Katherine Robinson makes a compelling case that we’ve been reading Robert Frost’s most famous poem all wrong. She cites letters written between Frost and the poet Edward Thomas. Both of them would walk together in the woods, yellow woods, among birch and alder trees. They would come to a fork in the road, and Edward would always seriously consider which road they should take, wondering which road would lead to the prettiest meadow or provide the most beauty or peace. Edward would choose which way they would go and Frost would follow. And inevitably once they started down the road a mile or so, Edward would regret his decision, and say they should have taken the other road. It would have much better. Frost wrote this poem for Edward as a loving joke. For Frost, the decisions we make are not neatly planned out or intentional. We act on impulse, and then later decide the meaning of our impulsive decisions.

We decide whether we should have regretted the path we’ve taken, or if we bolster ourselves by saying that indeed we took the path less traveled, and it made all the difference. Regardless of our choice, we will always wonder what the other path would have been like.

Frost sent the poem to Edward to his base where he was stationed during World War I. Edward didn’t get the joke. Like most people who read this poem, Edward thought it was one of the most inspiring poems he’d ever read about the need to take decisive action to find the right path, the one with most integrity, the less traveled path. He interpreted it as a poem about America during World War I, taking a new path toward fostering world community Frost replied to this assessment that Edward missed the whole point of his poem. The poem was not about America or the need for courage. It was about him, Edward. It was a testament to him, making fun of how serious he took his decision making when either path would’ve been just as wholesome, just as worthy. Every path could be given a story in retrospect that makes you feel courageous or independent or fortunate.

You can write that story in postscript for every path. Edward wrote back that he disagreed with Frost’s sentiment, and that most readers would read this poem the way he did – as a call to choose the path less traveled. dward was right.

When I think of the friendship between Robert Frost and Edward Thomas in relation to this poem, I think of homecoming. I wonder where home is located in this poem. Is it located down the path less traveled? Or is it merely written later in postscript to rationalize our impulsive decisions?  don’t think either Frost or Edward understood the full depth of this poem, even though it was about them. I agree with Frost that home is a story we tell ourselves, but that doesn’t make it a joke. It is not something we should easily dismiss or stand in detached amusement from. It’s also not a poem about life and death, and the need to choose the right path, to make sure you choose the path less traveled.

The truth is found in the middle, in that yellow wood, where no road has been made. It’s a road none of us have ever traveled. It’s a road none of us ever will.

It will be up to us to decide which path we will take, and more importantly decide where we will place our homecoming. You can talk about your path, disparaging it, wishing you would’ve taken another. Or you can bolster yourself with the fact that you chose a path with more courage. Either way, my suggestion is this. On whatever path you think you’ve chosen or whether you think you’ve ended up where you’ve ended up by impulse and circumstance – give yourself a homecoming. Home is a story we tell ourselves. Coming home can happen in an instant, and it can take a lifetime. It depends on the story we want to tell, and more importantly the story we want to live. Wherever you are on your path, I recommend you include the line in your story somewhere – “Welcome, Home.”