My neighbor has three boys and two girls. We’ve been living next to each other since 2001 and the trust between us has grown to the point that we even have keys to each other’s homes. I can’t tell you how many times her kids have come knocking on my door saying they forgot their key and needed to borrow mine. I sat there the last time one of them asked to borrow my key (to their house) and thought to myself I have had the same key to my mother’s house since I was 7 years old. Never once have I lost or misplaced it. Even though I have never lost or misplaced it, using it alone for the first time was one of the defining moments in my life.

As a small school aged child, my mother and I had a ritual. When the bus rounded the corner on my street, always and without fail she would be standing there waiting for me. When I got off the bus, we’d embrace, look both ways and then run across the street to our house. She would give me the key, I would place it in the door, open it and we would walk in and begin enjoying the time we had together before my siblings made it home from school. This ended abruptly as my mother passed away when I was 7.

After grieving for a week or so, we all had to get back to trying to live which also meant going back to school for the other children. The morning of the first day back to school without her, my father put that same key that my mother and I used so many times on a piece of string and placed it around my neck. I got out of school and arrived home first, so it stood to reason that I would be the one the key would be given to.

That first day back to school following my mother’s death came. I got off the bus and realized my mother was no longer with me. I looked across the street and that small, one story frame house that we lived in that a few short months ago was so warm and friendly…suddenly, looked like a monster. I was no match for it so instead of using the key to open the door, I sat alone on the porch and waited for my siblings to arrive. Whenever one of them arrived I would simply pass the key to whoever it was and allow them to open the door.

This went on for the better part of I’d say a month as I had convinced myself that I couldn’t open that door without my mother. Well, one afternoon I got off the bus and sat there on the porch in the last outfit we bought together. I looked down at my outfit and thought to myself that I’ve I dressed so well today it’s like she never even left me…and that’s when it hit me; she was still here.

I started thinking about all the positive things she would say to me during our time together and how valued she made me feel regardless of the circumstances; all the loving parts of her that were still here. I started thinking about how excited she would get whenever I pulled out an assignment that I had done well on…and how empowered her response made me feel. I started thinking about how knowingly or unknowingly, she had prepared me for this moment…and I was not going to let her down. So, with that, I hopped up, took a deep breath and put our key; that’s what we called it, our key, into the lock, turned it and walked in.

***

Even though it happened over 30 years ago, I still lean on and gain strength from that moment. Friend, you’ll have days when you feel as though He has left you all alone…days when you feel like He has got you to the porch but for some reason, you feel as though you can’t open the door.

But here’s the important point to remember; if He brought you to the porch and positioned you in front of the door…whatever that door represents, He has given you everything you need to open it. You’ve spent enough time allowing someone else to open doors for you.

Always letting someone else open the doors diminishes the gift that sits behind them. Hop up, take a deep breath, put the key in the lock and open the door. I promise you friend, there’s something beautiful waiting for you on the other side…