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Thursday, December 26, 2013

Doors...like eyes... are guardians of story.




 Why do they pull me close and still my feet? Why do I photograph them and stare at them and steal other people's door pictures?
     Why do I stop and linger in front of them? What makes me want to sit on their ground and make myself at home? Is it the mark of a life I imagine going through it?  Do I hear whispers calling from the other side? Is a promise waiting to open before me?
      I want just a little peak through the window. 
     No. That's a lie. Let me invade. let me touch , smell, go all the way in. All the way to the back porch where swings and hearts dwell.
     What coaxes me to want to put my hand on the knob and push in without knocking. To simply enter because of the magic waiting and I have the right. I could be fulfilled by something inside. 
     Are doors like eyes into the song of a life? Some shadowed and mascaraed to contend. A pretense. 
     Where in the cracks and holes and peeling paint, things faded, old and broken do I see beauty? What is it about the sight of scarred wood that makes my curiosity run so far and fast that I can't catch it so I just let it go and then wonder what is wrong.


I have a knowing of another side.
Do I want the door to be true? Authentic to its contents.
How many of them like faces with eyes are practiced?  Facades that manage their outcome. Do I really want to hear all of the voices and know all the secrets inside? I think not.



   If my husband had to choose for a door for me which one would it be and why would he choose it? What door would he choose for himself?
     Surely the notes in the songs of my son and daughters would guide and direct them in the door of their choosing? What if I didn't like their thresholds?
     What door would I pick for myself?
     Dont ask me to do that. How could I?
     The charm and notch and knockers and ivy and peep holes and color of each carry mystery and story and I want them all. 
      But God already chose my door and behind it lives my story.
     May my front porch shine with the light of true Glory and when people push inside and see my mess, may they stay long enough and dig deep enough to find love.