Miles to Go Before We Sleep
Most of my 7th-grade class at our small 1950s school shared a reverent respect for our English teacher, Mrs. Burkhardt. She resembled a less sanctified version of a Mother Superior and a more modern edition of Harry Potter’s Professor McGonagall. She often assigned us memory work and quizzed us to reinforce and cement it in our neocortex, which we learned about from Miss Jameson.
The popular American poet, Robert Frost, was a favorite of hers. His work, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, is a favorite of mine. The recent snow and ice cap across our city brought familiar lines of the poem back into my conscience. With two weeks of work in Orange Mound suspended, I relished reviewing the poem’s many-layered themes.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
by Robert Frost
Whose woods these are, I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
For fourteen days, I mused over the rhythms of the poem and Frost’s sensually packed lines in iambic tetrameter.
“[T]he woods fill up with snow,” was my view daily from my office window.
“The woods are lovely, dark and deep.” I pondered if “dark woods” could represent the often hostile, inhospitable place the MCOT ladies call home. Shadows in their woods of uncertainty and suspicion can inhibit and delay wise choices. Sadly, on many days, we have brought only a measure of light into the shadows of our neck of the woods in the middle of Memphis.
“But I have promises to keep.” That adage reminded and refreshed my commitment to obey the Lord’s command to love my neighbors in Orange Mound.
“And miles to go before I sleep” is said twice by Frost, and on repeat in my head practically daily.
The “snowcation” melted away when roads cleared. We returned to work, and I learned that two of our most recent hires had relapsed into their lives on the streets. Addictions and deceptions had swallowed up all their good intentions. Wanting to change had sincerely marked their cravings to work at My Cup of Tea. More insidious was the craving to return to the more familiar streets.
My deepest sadness was that I had to watch the crushing pattern cancel my hopes and prayers for them. The very instincts that had kept them alive on the streets had become barriers in pursuing honest fellowship with our family of employees and prioritizing steady and rewarding work among us. Each had prodigious strength and survival skills that couldn’t translate into the structured demands of our workplace at The House.
Upholding our standards at My Cup of Tea overruled my sorrow. It was the heartbreak of watching a door opening, a glimpse of the potential of a different future for each of them, and then watching the door slowly close. So much potential had been undermined by gaps in trust and cracks in consistency. I grieved over the collision of my duty to the organization and my compassion for two women I love and have endorsed.
Upholding my personal standards gave muscle to my vision of hope and redemption. The culture of “the streets” encourages the moral compromise that some have been steeped in for generations. The Mound, while unique in many ways, still mirrors our society, celebrating self-expression, instant reward, quick fixes, and independence from judgement. There are endemic pride and moxie which are contagious and reckless for all of us.
Proverbs 14:12: “There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end leads to destruction.”
“If it feels right, do it” is a sentiment challenged daily in the workrooms at My Cup of Tea. Our mentors, administrators, and veteran ladies reiterate frequently that wisdom comes through wise, informed choices, prayer, and Biblical instruction.
Traction in the personal trials is modeled among our leaders and managers and is esteemed by all. Kindness to others and keenness in common sense are the consummate prayers they offer for each beloved lady.
We continue to encourage all to travel a different path than many in their families and neighborhoods have tread. The broad path is full of ruts and roundabouts. Proverb 14:12 warns that the path is broad, but it does not negate the power of a single light pointing the narrow way.
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening gently underscores the fundamental choice that falls to us all. We choose the dark woods or return to the righted route to resolve, restraint, responsibility, and respect.
We all have made promises that we hope to keep, and have miles to go before we sleep.