DOORS

Different paths.  Different directions.  Different times. Different struggles. Different doors.

What brings us to intersections when we aren't quite certain which way to go. Your heart tells you one way and your intellect tells you another.  Which one wins?  

So what do you do?  I sit down and open the computer, and as I place my fingers on the keys I realize I am not certain what to type. So I pray for answers.  It is then I type as if the answers will come and all will be figured out by this simple movement.

But it doesn't work that way.  It just isn't that easy. I contemplate going into the bedroom and going back to sleep, but that's a cop out, an excuse.  I have laundry to fold and a book to complete and people who I love who are struggling themselves with various issues who need my support.  I have a dog having a liver biopsy this morning and trying to brace myself for whatever the answer might be, yet trying to remain optimistic.

Sometimes life is too much.  Too much drama.  Too much trauma. Too many people stealing my peace. Too much to handle all at once.  Which road to take. So I write.  I write about doors. 

I have had doors that I am afraid to open. We all have. What if no one answers, what if someone does, what if it is the wrong door, what if it isn't.  

From I HOPE YOU DANCE, Mark Sanders: "Doors. Holes in walls that offer us a way out or a way in.  Just putting your hand on the knob and seeing if it turns can make you weak at the knees."

Opening a door might be a mistake.  But could also be worth taking. From the same author and book I quote wisdom...."it's risky breathing, let alone needing, trusting, reaching out.  Life is the leap of faith, the bold declaration of HOPE."

So as I wait, I put my fingers back on the keyboard. I want wisdom to come, words of comfort, words of release.  For me really.  I have received so  much support from so many friends, as I face struggles that are of no concern to write about here.  Suffice it to say they are consuming and exhausting and sometimes debilitating. But then we all have them don't we?  The stuff we don't know how to handle and whether to open the door, and if we do we wonder has the door been closed too long. Or do we hide behind a closed door for fear of what is on the other side. I have no answers as of yet.  But I believe the answers will come.