The image of as Lucy as she peeps through the wardrobe door remains vivid in my mind though I was five when my first grade teacher read us The Lion, The Witch, And The Wardrobe. Opening and looking inside is what I do when I encounter a door (as long as I have no reason to believe there is danger).
On the first day when the firm I worked for moved to new office space, instead of unpacking my office and determining that my cases had been safely transported, I went from floor to floor trying doors. One led to a room that held a huge tank and various bits of machinery — it seemed a good place to hide the bodies if there ever were any bodies. (After that first day, the door was always locked; I checked several times.)
I want to know what is behind a door but more so, I want to know where a door leads. Maybe… Just maybe…
There is a door between earth and heaven. I know the way. Jesus taught us the way. My heart is still torn between the two — earth is so lovely but I, who have longed so much for home, know this isn’t really home. For now I’m content to wait and work towards the day when that door is open for me and I rush through it because I also know Who will be there with outstretched arms.
Every Friday,100s of bloggers set a timer, write for 5 minutes, and then post the results. We don’t edit or concern ourselves with whether our writing is flawless or worthy to be seen. We expose our incomplete, unpolished thoughts and words to each other and our readers. Kate Motaung at Heading Home provides the prompt on Thursday evening. We all link our posts there and tweet them with the hashtag #FMFParty. Join us.