These days. I’ve been thinking of some doors Those we close and ones we walk through. Doors we pray for and some, well, we’d rather not talk about. Let those doors stay shut. Got no time for dealin’ with what can’t be changed. But I tell you- I love ‘em in all their wonder. All their wild variety. Thresholds that carry us into and out of lives worth living. Into and out of Stories worth telling. The way we carry the essence of us across every doorway. Ain’t that the way it is? This simple act we perform a hundred times a week adding up yo some kind of magic? That old man, Paige, up in Vernon back when I was a kid saying, Howdy neighbor! every time that store’s door opened. Memaw smiling and saying What do y’all think you are up to? Every time we walked in. The doors I couldn’t wait to reach like Aunt Kate’s door in Georgia. We could show up at 2AM and she’d start cooking. Frying sausage, making biscuits - I kid you not. A traveler always needed to be fed before they could get in bed. And doors to other worlds that I have stepped through like the huge ones at the Abbey of Iona where the place between this world and the next is as thin as gossamer. Doors that opened into chapels with stone floors where prayers were whispered by candlelight. And other Doors so hidden they almost disappeared like clandestine doors along canals in Venice. Doors made for paupers, some fit for kings. And I can’t count the doors that I have wished for on the night skies first star. The ones that sheltered me from storms, or opened into some dream come true. They’re all of some significance, all our coming’s and our going’s adding up to something more special than we know. This week I think I’ll pause a minute in my crossings, and check my pockets. Consider what it is I carry out into the world, or into someone else’s home. Make a purpose to shake out my troubles, and pack some peace, a little light. These days - they always comes in handy.
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