Open Doors

My mom likes to quote that age old saying, “When God closes a door, He opens a window” or something to that affect. I’ve a difficult time hearing that saying as the timeliness of its utterance usually sucks coupled with the fact it rarely helps me see through to any truth. It still hurts when a door is slammed on you whether God did it or not. I’m not one to crawl through windows as a typical answer to my problems so I’m not keen on the solution much.

Geography poses a problem here, too. It depends on which side of the door/window I'm standing. Am I outside looking into a house? Or am I inside looking to get out? Typically, locks on doors are on the inside, so I can’t see a problem with a closed door if I’m already safely inside someplace. If outside, I don’t desire to have a ‘breaking and entering’ charge on my record.

You see my problem.

However, I do concede to Mom (and maybe God) the intention of what she is trying to communicate. I get the message.

So, in honor of Mom and those doors all over the world, I wrote a simple poem.

At first glance, all are doors wide open,
With endless possibilities each day.
Through years, one finds, no door’s sovereign.
False opens tend to look some that way.

Soon, doors once open seem closed,
By time or by fate or by choice.
The truth is so rarely disclosed,
Yet, that last open door is your voice.

The hard part is hearing the thing.
The ring of the right thing to do.
Opportunity as a threshold for change,
Now a place to restart again new.