Through the door

I walk unsteadily,

like a toddler finding my center of gravity,

arms out for balance,

taking one wobbly step after another,

crossing the threshold into a life I have never known.

A flicker of familiarity encourages me

(I don’t have to leave everything behind)

and the known calms my uncertainty.

Is the light coming from ahead to guide my steps or

from the experiences of my past,

encouraging me onward

to step through the door and

begin this journey into

the next chapter of my life.

In the silence

How do you pray in a time of sorrow?

I am not talking about saying prayers,

but rather that conversation with God,

when you acknowledge your deepest needs,

admitting vulnerability and brokenness,

speaking of your desire to be healed and made whole,

confessing from the depths of your being that you are

lonely or depressed,

crying out,

Oh God

from beneath a sadness that presses down like the weight of a

thunderous waterfall crashing onto the rocks below.

Looking for God,

wanting to share the whole of who you are,

wanting to tell

everything.

How do you pray from that place of loss, sorrow, confusion?

And then I remember,

God is here.

I only need to turn around

and meet myself at the open door,

cross the threshold and

come back to that place within

where the divine dwells,

and there I can

let my tears flow,

flushing out my sadness,

creating space for hope and

finding peace in the silence.