Susan Badeau

There are only two lasting gifts we can give our children - one is roots, the other is wings


Open a Door

Posted by Sue Badeau on April 11, 2013 at 10:15 AM

I love doors. Whenever I travel, I take photos of doors, windows and gates. Just this morning, out for my daily walk, I took another photo of a lovely gate in my neighborhood.

What does a door say to me? Doors are so rich with meaning, emotion, and possibilities.

A door says, "welcome". A cheery door, an open door, a door surrounded by flowers, a painted door. A door with a well-worn doorjamb, a stoop for sitting on - these doors tell me I am invited in, I am welcome, I will find hospitality, rest for my tired feet, my weary bones, my hungry soul. I honor and appreciate all who bid me welcome through the doors to their homes, their lives, their worlds.

A door says, "this is who I am - come, get to know me”. Doors are little palettes of self-expression. See, here is my artistic flair, my hopefulness, my zaniness, my wistfulness, my splash of color. On my street, my door is my unique stamp in a row of sameness - it sets me apart. My wreath, my flowers, my funky antique frog knocker, that little broken piece of glass where the kids baseball sailed through . . . . my door is a collage of me.

And yet, a door also connects me to my community. It is ordinary. We all have doors - to our homes, our cars, our schools, our jobs. Stepping out of our own doorways and into those of others provides connection, gives us the opportunity to link our lives with our sisters, brothers, children, elders, friends, even our enemies are no farther than a door or two away.

A door speaks of history. How many people has this door welcomed? Whose hands have turned this doorknob? Whose feet have crossed this threshold before me? How many brides were carried across, how many babies toddled out? How many drunks stumbled in, how many workmen made repairs? How many times has it been opened broadly, warmly? How many times has it been slammed in anger? A door is a slice of a hundred or a thousand lives lived, dreams dreamed, hopes pursued.

A door speaks of possibilities. A new start. Opportunities. What journey will I begin when I cross this threshold? What lies beyond this door? Will I see the world differently? Will I be a different person when I return, weary, at the end of the day? Look how the light angles through, the reflections, even in a world of darkness, a door can be a symbol of hope, a chance to be renewed, recreated, reborn.

A door speaks of mystery. The secret door, to secret places. What surprises are in store when I walk through this door? Will I be pleased? Frightened? Awestruck? There are many secrets behind closed doors. Some mysteries are exciting - challenges, waiting to be opened, unlocked, shared. Others are best left closed, private. Some have kept their secrets too long and need someone brave enough to gently open them so light can shine again in the darkness.

A door connects us to the world beyond - to God, and to our spiritual selves. Doors are reminders of the rites of passages we cross as we traverse and travail throughout our lives. One door brings new life. Another door leads to death. A door takes us beyond ourselves, beyond the here and now, beyond our wildest imaginings, our fears, our mysteries. A door takes us home.

A door speaks of home. I am safe here. I am secure. There is a coziness, a comfort behind that door. The door keeps the wind and the rain and the cold out, and allows the warmth of love to fill my heart. A door speaks of love. My door says, "Ahhhhhhhh, it is so good to be home."

Everyone longs for that sense of home. We do no greater service than when we find a way to open a door that says, “Welcome Home,” to a child with no family, to a person with no friends – to the “stranger” in our midst.

“The alien has not lodged outside, 
For I have opened my doors to the traveler.” Job 31:32

Categories: Building Bridges of Hope

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Reply Carol Weeks
1:30 PM on April 11, 2013 
Beautiful message. So many ways to look at an ordinary door...
Reply Sue Badeau
1:43 PM on April 11, 2013 
Thanks for stopping by Carol!
Reply Vonda Skelton
6:15 PM on April 14, 2013 
I remember that when we lived out in the country and had a driveway 1/2 long, the moment I turned onto that long gravel drive, I could feel the pressure releasing. I was home. The driveway was the door to safety and security. Good memories. Thanks!
Reply Sue Badeau
9:03 PM on April 14, 2013 
YES! Love that, Vonda - a door can take many shapes and forms . . .!