|Eilidh, inside the front door of our old house.|
An image of OUR closed door.
What are the odds?
At first I wasn't sure what to make of it. I laughed, I got angry (feeling somewhat invaded), and then I blurted it out to my little Facebook world without much good reason, other than the fact that I had no pillow close by to scream into.
Really? Must I be the poster child now, Lord?
So what if very few people actually know who's door that is, I still do! I'm the one that picked out the paint and then grew irritated when our cats took it off again; mad that I had the audacity to suggest they actually go outside and be cats; that's my cat-scratched-rust-red-door with the lock box on it.
And then do you know what He said?
'I AM the one who shut that door, and you know that what door I shut, no man can open. That is not your door anymore-you can't go back.'
I did not take this news well, either.
It was uncomfortable because I knew it was true, and because what I am afraid of now is that this is not the last door He is going to close; There are other doors endangering my sense of safety with their creaking sound. This evening when I searched the news (maybe I should stop doing that?) I learned that there are some who, because of a very tragic event, are essentially trying to have the company I work for shut down.
When I take inventory of the past two years they seem so over the top, so made up.
I feel vulnerable and exposed personally, and saddened for others whose good names are being brought into question.
I am coming to understand just how threatened I have been feeling.
What if the unthinkable does happen?
Can I trust enough to remember WHO closed the door?
Will I be able to release it all and willingly be led through new doors that I would have never chosen?
There are doors I can not open and one's I can not close.
I am being brought to my knees and I have to trust that there is goodness on the other side.