Skip to main content

Don't open that door!



Growing up, my older sister had a "Mystery Date" game. I have no recollection of how it was played, only that, at the end of the game, you had to open the door to reveal your date. You wanted to get one of the handsome guys, dressed for a day at the beach or a formal dance. You lost if you got the "dud."

My other memory of this is that my sister rarely let me play the game, as I was "too young." This meant I had to sneak into her room and play by myself. I guess that was better than nothing. (By the way, I'm sorry,  Michele,  for trespassing.)

Dear Husband and I visited some friends from college a few weeks back. We were discussing all of the traumas I/we have had to deal with over the past year and a half, including losing our house. In many ways, it's been a blessing to have the apartment we found, and being relieved of the burden of too much stuff.

I didn't realize until I was speaking the words out loud, but I really did not like our old house. Too me, it represented so much stress, so many burdens, and unfortunately, far too many really bad memories. I used to come home at the end of the day, and as I got closer to home, I would get more tense. Opening the door and entering, I never knew what would greet me: another cracked window, something being stolen, a fight .... It was awful.

No one should feel dread when they are coming home.

Moving to our apartment has relieved that particular stress. There are only good memories here, and we fully intend to make more. Opening the door now means, I'm home. Kick off your shoes. Check the veggies and peppers on the deck. Gather around the table for a great meal and a bottle of wine.

About midnight, while Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God as the prisoners listened, there was suddenly such a severe earthquake that the foundation of the jail shook; all the door flew open, and the chains of all were shook loose. Acts 16:25-26

For so many years, my foundation has been shaky. Our home shifted this way and that, with every new crisis. Now, I have the doors and windows open to the sun and the wind. Our home is open and welcoming, and my chains are loosed. The Holy Spirit has room to move here. I no longer fear an open door, losing the game by getting the "dud," or facing down an angry teen.

No, here we praise God, for He has opened the doors that cut us off from peace and He has set us free.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Trying to "end run" God

If you're a football fan, you know what an end run is. From Merriam-Webster:
a football play in which the ballcarrier attempts to run wide around the end of the line We try to "end run" God a lot. I do. I figure I know better. I've got this - no need to worry the Big Guy about such a trivial thing.

Of course, it never works.

Like the puppy above, when we try and evade the tough obstacle (even though we KNOW we will eventually have to do it), we end up - well, off in the bushes.

But oh! How I wished my way worked. I'd love to take a flying leap and land smoothly and gracefully. People would be in awe, as if watching Simone Biles nail a balance beam routine that no one else would even attempt. I would shyly look down and blush - just lightly - and acknowledge (But humbly! Oh so humbly!) my achievement.

But no: I am the one pulling myself out of the bushes, scratches all over my legs and twigs in my hair. I'd hear that gentle but loving voice of God saying, &quo…

So close to Jesus

This past Sunday, at Mass, Dear Husband and I had the great good fortune of having a dad, toddler and infant sit next to us in the front pew.

"Good fortune?" you say. Sounds horrible. Kids are so distracting. Put 'em in the nursery.

Nope. We sit up in the front pew, and always invite parents with young kids to come and sit with us. Having raised 5 hyper kids, we can pretty much ignore anything, plus kids do much better when they can see what's going on.

I have to admit, I wanted the toddler to act up a bit so I could whisper to the dad, "I'll watch the baby if you have to take him out."

Instead, we saw something rather remarkable.

Oh, the toddler (not quite 2) was a toddler. He was a bit anty. He wasn't quite sure that he liked seeing his mommy in front, cantoring, where he couldn't get to her. He whined and fussed a bit.

But during the Consecration, his enormous blue eyes locked onto the priest. That baby boy saw Jesus up there. You could just…

Fading Into Friday

It's been a long week. Monday was just ... bad. I ticked off our IT guy at work by opening up one of those d*%$ emails that as soon as you click on it, you think, "Oops." So I trotted over to his office, and he promptly yelled at me. Like I was a child. Or stupid. Or a stupid child.

This was after I found out that every imaginable driving route from my home to office and back home again is under construction. Can't get there from her. Orange barrels. Must as well sleep in the office.
This, combined with the fact that I am now the ONLY person on the planet who stills checks their blind spot before changing lanes, makes me want to quit my job and go live in a yurt.

Our health insurance company sent us these gloom and doom letters that Dear Hubby and I HAD to go online and fill out a health assessment NOW or OUR INSURANCE WOULD BE CANCELLED!!! They were SERIOUS! So, I went online Wednesday. Their system was down for maintenance.

Tried again yesterday. I swear I could n…