As I was thinking about it yesterday, I came to realize that this poem is (or can be) about more than romantic love (which is what I thought of when I first read it, when I made the page in the album I gave John, and every time I've seen it since then ... until yesterday). It can be about being a parent, too. Because it's true. It's true about love in marriage and love in parenting. It's an incredible and wonderful thing that God enables us to love our children more and more each day. And it's a really good thing, too, since, even though we love our children enormously on the day they are born, every extra little bit of love is needed on days when they've been grumpy since they got up and nothing will pacify or get them to snap out of it and you are about to cry yourself (not that we are having one of "those" days, not at all).
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Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not take them bothAnd be one traveler, long I stoodAnd looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;//Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing thereHad worn them really about the same,//
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,I doubted if I should ever come back.//I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:Two roads diverged in a wood, and I -
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made the difference.
"These little moments ... matter, for they are where we live every day."
- Paul David Tripp