Peanut can now reach doorknobs. For months I watched her reach and stretch on tiptoe, chubby fingers tickling the air below the brassy knob. Then one day I could not find her in the house, because she had gone into the ‘chokie’ room (where the big kids keep Legos and tiny doll house pieces) and closed the door. While I hunted and called for her, she quietly sat behind the closed door, enjoying the sweet taste of solitude and power. Her height has finally caught up with her insatiable spirit of adventure and nothing is out of bounds. So I find her hiding in the empty tub, or standing on the rocking chair she has scooted up to the closet, or eating the bits of story she has torn from familiar books. And she always remembers to close the door behind her, making space between her mischief and her mama.
This morning I read the words of Christ in Revelation to the church in Philadelphia. He could have told them anything, but what he said was this: “See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut.” He goes on to say that he recognized that they are tired, but praises them for keeping his word and for not being ashamed of their God. An open door is a beautiful thing. It lets in light and allows passage from this place to that. A closed door tells a different story, one of loss, darkness and likely misbehavior. The sound of a closing door pricks the ears of mothers everywhere. It means there will be haircuts or spontaneous murals or both. So when Christ says he has propped the door open permanently for me, my heart sings. Oh, that I would walk through it.
“See, I have placed before you an open door that no one can shut.” Revelations 3:8
Are those blue skies outside the door?
ReplyDeleteI've spent the past hour-and-a-half searching for a photo of an old, half-opened exterior door that I might download (legally) and use as part of a creative depiction of a welcomed shift that I felt earlier in the week. I finally come along this post and your site.
Is it ever really an accident when we connect in the Spirit?
Who are you? You write like I feel on the inside with this odd combination of mirth, deep grounding of gratitude and awe of God and His crazy little world of humans doing human things. I’ve read many of your posts – I’ve absorbed the words – I’ve smiled easily and humbly while experiencing your all’s art of listening to your family, yourselves and God. You do it well. You do it better than I. Could I possibly link this particular photograph and post to my Facebook, adding the stir of my search?
I am totally lame about checking for comments, and just found this note. If you still want or need it, you have my permission. :) Blessings.
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