Doors. Sometimes, God shuts doors.. But sometimes, He slams them.
Where have I spent the past month of my life? On the other side of the door. Doors that I waited for years to open were flung open for a season, then closed again. No, I take that back. Those doors were slammed in my face. Boom. Just like that. Shut.
Instead of grabbing the handle and forcing the door back open, I stood still for a little bit. The door was cracked open just enough for me to see glimpses of what was, and what wasn't anymore. I glared. For days, I stood there.. Looking. Couldn't pry my eyes away. My eyes were so fixated on the past that I couldn't look away. I couldn't look away long enough to let the door shut.. Until He slammed it for me.
As I was standing on the other side of the door, I finally took my focus away from what was left of the past. I looked up. As soon as I decided to look up, He snatched me up. My big, strong Jesus held His two hands out for His achy, tired daughter. With one hand, He held my hand. With the other, He slammed the door shut.
Was it easy to see that door shut? No. The sound made me cringe, and the memories.. They stayed behind the door. They belonged there. They'll stay there.
Sometimes, without reason, doors have to be slammed. God has to slam them off the hinges because He needs you to look up. He needs your hand to clasp His. Don't worry, though. As soon as He shuts a door, both of His hands are free. Then, just like the sweet Father He is, He uses both to pick you up and cradle you. And that... Well, that is the safest place to be.