The Door

It has loomed in front of me for almost two years, just out there. I had no idea how to get through it to the other side. It was always just something I looked at. Sometimes I went close to it, even attempted to walk through it, but a powerful force held me back.

My desire has been mounting. Why, I didn't know. Perhaps curiosity. As I look back on last year, maybe it was the call to stop flip-flopping between the past and the reality of now. I could feel God on the other side of that door. Faithfully yet gently calling to me "Walk thru the door, I am here."

But something held me back.

I could not get hold of it. It would come and leave but with no words.

I wanted to reach out and grab it, yank it with me and burst out the other side. With no pain, of course.

The powerful force would grab me by the throat and hold me. I fought back, my desire growing with each encounter.

My curiosity continued to be stimulated, sometimes by moments with sunshine, and sometimes by moments of intense darkness. Often it seemed these moments were brought by my children.

Like February 24th of last year. Brent was just starting to talk. All day he walked around clapping his hands and saying "Happy, happy, happy." What? This is a happy day? This day, the 24th of February, is supposed to be happy?

Compare that with a moment at bedtime with Anna. Lights out, she whispers "I think the best way to die would be to jump in a pond." REALLY? My Adam's apple slid down to my stomach as I managed to croak out "Yeah, but I would really miss you." We had a long serious conversation about that. She thinks dying would be nice cause she wants to see her sister. After all, Marlea can remember her, and she can't. Not fair at all in her mind, and truthfully, not fair at all.

Maybe it was those sleepless nights with Cybrin. He is ten months old and just loves his momma at all hours. My mind wandered as I sat with him at 11, 1, 3, and 5 night after night. Why the door in front of me?

I felt handicapped and unable to walk thru the doorway, or even get really close. Always just an arm's length away, and then I would retreat in discouragement. My friend spoke these words for me "In moments of despair, when you are weak, I will cry 'Abba, Father' for you." I thought of them often. My friend and I are close in heart, but not in location. I knew she could feel when I need the words.

Fast forward a few months. Brent had an ear infection. Went to the doctor and got antibiotics. Great, now we can sleep again, right? I knew the medicine had a little amoxicillin in (he is mildly allergic, we thought from a prior experience.) The doctor thought it would be okay. We also did until he woke with a 105 degree fever, coughing, and shaking tremors at midnight. When he was finally sleeping again around 4 we realized he had an asthma attack and an allergic reaction. To say I was scared is an understatement. Thank God for the people who created Advil, Albuterol, and Benadryl. I was afraid my friend was sleeping, so guess what I did? Yes, I squeaked out "Abba, Father" all by myself. Mysteriously, that moment propelled me forward.

But I still could not walk through the door. Although I could now cry "Abba, Father" by myself.

A few weeks ago, the week of the fifth anniversary since Kira died, God showed me the way through the door. Lying in bed with Brent - who is almost the exact same size that Kira was when she died, I had a memory I had buried way down. Never told anyone. Just one of those "NEVER AGAIN GONNA DO THINGS." Before Kira died, I prayed "God, I want to grow. I want to know more of You. Please help me learn more compassion and gentleness. Show me Yourself. I desire to be more like You." Uh huh. Two weeks later Jesus came and took my three year old. I speak strongly because I was bitter. Who wouldn't be? Wasn't she mine? I was left crippled and wounded with pain. I am thinking all these things while Brent is peacefully going to sleep beside me. I still hate watching them fall asleep or going to sleep. It is so cute, but not to me anymore. Too much the same. Suddenly I realized that I had no desire to grow. I have spoken this word before, written words to describe this powerful monster...and here it was again in a different form. Fear in relation to growth?

Grow. The words echoed thru my mind like steps pushing me forward. Suddenly I became really angry. I felt pushed to go through the door. "That's it" I thought, "God is pushing me. I am going to stay right here, planted in this barren land." How unjust of him after all I have been through.

God brought these words to me in such a gentle way "Are you simply a survivor or are you a warrior for Me?"

I don't know about you, but I want to be a warrior, a mighty one. So I swallowed my fear way past my Adam's apple. I picked up my bags and walked through the door. My sin of simply surviving changed to moving forward. I realized in such a real way that being pushed is not fun, but to follow where God leads is one of the most freeing feelings a person can experience while walking on this earth.

Marylu