There’s a bird chirping merrily away just outside my kitchen window. I wonder what he’s singing about. Perhaps he’s enjoying the last spray of sunlight across his feathers. Maybe he’s just caught a fat worm.
Maybe he just likes to sing.
Linking up with Kate and the fabulous folks of Five Minute Friday.
Some doors are best left closed.
In my continuing quest for that elusive settled feeling, I often yank open long-closed doors. I want answers. I want to understand. I want things to make sense.
But sometimes there are no answers. Or there aren’t good ones. I don’t understand. Or can’t. It doesn’t always make sense. Less and less does the world operate on anything resembling a logical plane.
I want to close doors on my terms. I want to say, “Okay, I am done with this now.”
Trouble is, nobody operates on my terms. I don’t even operate on my own terms half the time. Thank God He knows me down to the last details and so knows why I self-contradict over and over again.
I’m learning that the Holy Spirit places neon “Do Not Enter” signs on doors that He doesn’t want me to go through. Their knobs stick and jam when I try to turn them. He tells me that only danger lies within. He reminds me that His counsel is best and wisest and always for my good.
We try for resolution. We want to bring things to an end in the best way possible. But that doesn’t always happen. Things get messy. People don’t cooperate. Fingers and toes get pinched in the jam as we push against the wood. Splinters prick our fingers. Sweat and tears roll down our cheeks.
Nevertheless, it closes.
We don’t always know why.
We’re not always meant to know why.
Sometimes we just have to walk away.
Leave the door closed.