A Door in Front

A Door in Front

(“I know that you have a little power; you have followed my teaching and have been faithful to me. I have opened a door in front of you, which no one can close.” Revelation 3:8)

As the quicksand pulls upon your waking and
the ache of another day plainly drains your greater strength
before starting out the door;
once more
you remember the days limber and pliant
when a change in plans was as good
as
a change of scenery on the nth day of rain.

But the pain has laid down pathways,
dog trails in the backyard, from doghouse to
neighbor fence to
food dish and
back again;
her needs are habit and predictable.

So the pain has kept you within its leashed radius,
a few blocks perhaps, a few miles on the better days,
and few visits with friends, no dinner dates (even
laughter wears you down faster than shotgun rounds
piercing the fog in autumn). From the bed to
the couch to
the office and
back again;
your strength has all been borrowed before
you’ve had time to devise more elegant plans.

Believe me, I know the dark silence and how it
screams loudly. I’ve worn the guilty collar that
won’t let you off the hook. So much more you could
do,
so little done before another round of uneasy sleep
and treading the careless circle again.

But friend, there is another standard, an embrace
more certain that first place or captain of frontrunners
who win the race hands down question from any short-sighted
eye in the stands. There is another standard,
another measure of the love you feel has leaked and spilled
and ignited and frightened its capacity away. There is
the open door,
the wonder of One who does not care you cannot stay
for more than an hour. He will make up the rest of
the day
you long to complete. There is One Standard,
who endured and knows the tears you’ve hidden.
Hears the anguish unbidden, and exchanges them
(it is more than true) for prayer and answers more
than when, healthy as a bear, you thought you would
set the pace longer, much longer, than you have.

The open door is Father and He enters your pain,
your disdain of the half-life you feel has devalued your soul.
You, my sufferer and friend, are whole even while
you lay unmovable in shallow breaths and sacred pleas.