Walking down memory lane, I come across many strange sights;
Strange, not because they’re unfamiliar, surprising or unnatural;
But because down memory lane things just look different.
Some things which seemed heavy, look like feathers now;
Some things that flitted through barely leaving a mark,
Now seem to have made and left trenches deep and wide;
Fleeting moments that were regarded ordinary, barely noteworthy,
Now seem to be set in gold, with silver linings and adorned with pearls.
There’s light shining on the dark spots that were dreary;
Signposts that seemed to point one way
Now seem to have been pointing the other way;
Some buildings that looked glorious now look decrepit – eyesores;
Places that used to be filled with saplings, now filled with weeds;
There are paths that used to be well laid out, beautifully tended,
Lined with manicured hedges and dainty flowers; Now barely visible.
What used to be a lively theme park,
Now nothing more than a colourful graveyard.

There are some things that remain the same though;
Very few things that seem set in stone – the crossroads.
The paths leading to them may be blurred into obscurity,
But the crossroads remain, and a path remains – the chosen path;
Most often than not, looking very different
From what it promised to be when looking from the crossroad.
But that’s to be expected, I suppose…
Because before, it was untrodden, now it is well known –
Your body and mind testifying categorically.

Yet still there is a Crossroad set apart from the rest;
An ancient looking Crossroad, at once both simple and sombre;
Strangely enticing and forbidding; both inviting and foreboding;
Promising much and warning much,
Not mincing much, but also hiding much – paradoxes and enigmas;
Stark but glorious, speaking a language understandable yet barely conceivable.
A strangely self repeating Crossroad –
Most times subtly worked into other crossroads.
One path cries and the other screams;
One path drags and the other waits;
One path gives what can be lost, promising it would last;
The other takes away whatever doesn’t last, promising you’d have everything.
One path brags about the joys of today and the pleasures of nearby tomorrow,
The other points to the magnificent glory of a distant timeless tomorrow
To be reflected mildly in a fleeting today.
Both making promises…
Both making promises…
Both making promises…

It’s a difficult Crossroad, especially for the blind who claim to see.

Down memory lane I come, oftentimes to revisit this Crossroad.
On the way I notice the changes; the destruction, the construction,
The new paths, the new trees and their fruits, the simple beautiful things;
The labours and sacrifices, the losses, the pains, the frustrations.
Looking with only my eyes, I would doubt I took the right path;
Fortunately, I’m not alone, and I’ve learnt not to rely solely on my eyes.
Time matching forward, memory walking backwards;
Me. Stuck. Inbetween.
I assure myself every-time I take this journey:
‘I made the right choice following Christ.’

Have you met this Crossroad?